“Eighty-six consecutive rejections. I give up.” He downed his scotch.

“Pessimist,” I scoffed.

“Just let me crawl down into my Deep Hole of Lonelitude.” His glass being already empty, he downed my scotch next.

Nearby, a withered, watery-eyed man in a wheelchair said, “Psh. Romance? Wouldn’t solve your problem, anyways.”

This story is based on a title suggested by Jeremy Quinn. It is a companion to his previous title suggestion, Unlikely Ascension.