Not stopping there, I listed every extravagant gift Alpha Waldo had ever given me online—free to anyone willing to pay for shipping. By the time I finished, most of it was sold. A courier was scheduled for pick-up the next day.
Later, my phone buzzed again, reminding me of tickets to the immersive play I’d bought months ago. Back then, I’d imagined we’d attend together.
I didn’t even bother asking if Alpha Waldo was still coming. As I got ready to leave, a message pinged through:
“Alpha Waldo”: Too busy with packwork tonight. Don’t wait for me for dinner.
Work. Sure.
I rolled my eyes and went alone. I didn’t get front-row tickets, so my seat was on the right aisle, not too close to the stage. The play was incredible—a heart-wrenching love story about life and death. By the end, I was in tears.
When the play neared its end, the actors began interacting with the audience. A giant screen lit up, announcing a random audience member had been selected for interaction. The screen revealed Alpha Waldo’s face.
But He wasn’t alone. Alanna sat beside him.
Oh, so “Packwork” meant accompanying Alanna. They had the privilege of front-row seats. The spotlight shone on them as they looked perfect together—Alpha Waldo, sharp and handsome; Alanna, radiant and elegant.
The actors approached, asking if they were a couple. Alanna giggled, leaning into his arm before he could answer.