Simon felt good because the girl in front was interested in him. She had been talking to his colleagues, and they had smiled like conspirators do, and offered her words of encouragement. He knew that they were talking about him, and for the first time in ages, he remembered what it was like to be wanted again. The fact that she was a girl didn’t matter. What did matter was that she had seen something in his declining years that took him back to a time when he was a young man, and everything was his for the taking. 

He guessed that she was in her twenties, slightly drunk, and that explained why she wanted to speak with him, someone serious, and older. At least I haven’t lost it, he told himself. 

But he didn’t want a girl, never had, and the girl didn’t want him. 

She told him that she wanted to introduce him to her mother because he would be perfect for her. How old was he? Was he single? He found out that her mother was fifty four.  Simon knew that the girl was vetting him. Where did he live? Who did he know? And Simon politely answered each question hoping that she would go away.

I’m waiting for my little brother, she said, and when he appeared, she was obviously proud of him. Isn’t he gorgeous? Wouldn’t you like him as a stepson?  

Simon agreed but inwardly sighed, because if he had been forty years younger, he would have been more interested in that little brother