Since everyone—or at least, a decent amount of people—loves love, Evelyn is hoping a big project like “Modern Love in Focus” will catch a lot of attention and will generate the necessary numbers to save our section. And I hope so, too, because I love my job. And the last thing I need right now on top of all the other turmoil I already have going on in my life is unemployment.

Despite the pressure, I’m excited for this project. “Modern Love in Focus,” as Evelyn pitched it, will feature interviews with San Franciscan couples of three different generations, starting from college students to senior citizens, about their various experiences with love. The printed magazine will have interview transcripts and gorgeous portraits of the subjects, while the digital edition will have video recordings of the interviews. It’s a cute, dream-come-true project that’s right up my alley. The biggest opportunity I’ve ever had at Horizon. I make a mental note to thank Evelyn for assigning it to me.

By the time I get off the train, I’m so stoked about the project that it doesn’t even bother me that my own personal life is a mess right now. If anything, focusing on other people’s love lives sounds like an excellent distraction from my own.

Val and Kiara’s apartment has a mostly open-plan layout, so the front door directly leads into not only the kitchen, but also the living room and Val’s office space area in the far-right corner. The only walled-off areas are the single bathroom and my friends’ bedroom, so when I step through the front door, I make direct eye contact with Val, who looks up from her multiple computer monitors.

“Hey,” she says. “Missed you at lunch today. Everything all right?”

I only then realize I’d been so determined to distract myself from what happened this morning that I’d totally skipped lunch. As if on cue, my stomach growls.

“Not really,” I reply. “But I’ll tell you the full story later.”

“’Kay.”

Val goes back to her game, leaving me to marvel at her current setup. My friend is playing a first-person shooter game on one screen while also watching what looks like Jujutsu Kaisen, an anime, on the other. A stack of pizza boxes is precariously perched on the side table next to her computer.

It’s a miracle that Kiara hasn’t murdered her yet. I look around and don’t see any signs that she came back to the apartment after work yet. She must be out getting dinner with some of her other friends today. Out of the three of us, Kiara is the social butterfly, having so many different friend groups that it’s hard for me to keep track.

As I watch, Burrito, their ginger cat, gets ready to pounce on the boxes.

“Val,” I say. “Burrito is—”