**Amanda**

Amanda watched in embarrassed horror as the maple pecan rolled across the floor leaving a trail of crumbs in its wake. Her laptop hung over the table's edge, dangerously close to teetering into Muffin Man's lap. Holding the poo book in one hand and a drink in the other, Muffin Man glanced from the laptop to his muffin to Amanda.

"I'm soooo sorry." Amanda stood up on her tiptoes to get a better look at the fallen baked good. "A maple pecan?" she asked the man.

His head nodded, but the rest of his body remained completely still. Amanda thought he might be freezing like a statue because the Hewlett-Packard dangled over the edge of the table like a professional wrestler ready to body slam his genitals. She wanted to reach across and reposition the laptop to a more dick-friendly location, but she was afraid the smallest bump might send Rowdy Roddy Packard leaping off the ropes with a hard corner to the groin. Maybe he's frozen because of low blood sugar levels due to a half-eaten meal, Amanda thought, concluding some sort of medical or biological petrification would be better than bruised balls. Or maybe he just discovered his poo is telling him something awful?

Amanda hesitated to speak. With her computer dangerously close to assaulting the man's lap, an invisible wall of awkwardness separated the two strangers, hindering graceful communication. Amanda pointed to her laptop. "Would you mind watching that while I go--." Pointing towards the display case where the pastries were kept, she added "While I get you another--?" Amanda waited half a second for the man to answer before she answered for him. "Yes?" Amanda nodded for the confused poop-reader, then whispered, "Okay." Turning on her heel, she bounced on her tiptoes towards the line where people waited to order food and drinks.

This is why you need to say 'no' to online stalking, Amanda scolded inwardly. Stalking is creepy and--dangerous to others. Mentally stable people aren't stalkers--or creepy. How are you even going to give Poop Man his new muffin without--freaking him the fuck out? She cut her inner lecture short when a random need to sing the Muffin Man nursery rhyme consumed her head.

(sings)
Do you know,
the muffin man,
the muffin man,
the muffin man?
Do you know,
the muffin man,
who lives on Muh-ruh-ree Lane?

"What can I get for you today?" a voice asked.

Amanda continued to ponder what lane Muffin Man lived on. Mulberry Lane? Brewery Lane? Lois Lane?

"Mam?"

Amanda's head snapped towards the Starbucks clerk. "Sorry!"

A young Starbuckian in her late teens or early twenties smiled. "What can I get you?"

"I need a maple pecan muffin and--." Amanda stared at the menu like a muggle trying to locate platform 9 3/4 at Kings Cross Station. "A Grande lime refresher? Is that what they're called?"

"Uh--." The clerk scanned the buttons on the register then seemed to search for a particular employee working behind the counter. "It's my first week. Let me ask if we have that."

The Starbuckian waved her manager over and asked if lime refreshers were on the menu. The Starbuckian leader shook her head. "Sorry. We're not carrying the Cool Lime Refresher at the moment. We have other refresher flavors, though."

Amanda flipped her upper lip towards her nose. "No. I'm actually looking for something with lots of caffeine in it--."

The Starbuckian leader, also known as Velma, asked, "Have you tried one of our brand-new designer lattes?"

An accidental snicker escaped Amanda's lips. "Designer? Were the coffee beans shaken in maracas by Keebler Elves while prancing around in Jimmy Choos?"

The young Starbuckian pointed to the pastry display. "I'll get the muffin."

"Did you say you wanted Moroccan coffee?" Velma asked. It seemed another one of Amanda's jokes had bit the dust and buried itself--as millions before it had done.

"Actually, I'm looking for something with lots of caffeine--but not coffee or tea." Amanda stuck out her tongue and made a bleh sound. "Coffee and tea are gross."

Velma glanced at a Starbucks sign and playfully drawled, "Girrrrrl?" She chuckled, then added, "You're not from around here, are you?"

"I grew up here."

"And Seattle hasn't kicked you out its borders for not drinking coffee?"

The Starbuckian returned with the muffin. Amanda put her hands in front of her face as though she were praying. "Is there any way you could deliver that muffin to the man at the table over there reading the poop book?"

"The what?" Starbuckian questioned, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

"Are you trying to make a love connection?" Velma asked with a grin.

"Oh, no!" Amanda waved both hands in the air. "I'm incapable of real life love connections. I'm just replacing a muffin I knocked on the floor. Poop guy would probably feel more at ease if someone besides me delivered it to him."

Velma turned to the Starbuckian. "Why don't you also grab the broom and dustpan, Love." The girl nodded and disappeared into the back room. Since no one else was in line to place an order, Velma rested her forearms and the weight of her upper body on the counter. "Incapable of real life love connections?"

Amanda shrugged her shoulders. "I think it's the Dunbar and Encyclopedia Effect." She scanned the menu again. "Screw it. I'll take a Grande mocha. Just make it extra chocolatey to mask the coffee taste."

"Do you want a hot chocolate instead?"

"I need caffeine!"

"Got it! One chocolatey Grande mocha coming up."

As Velma gathered the supplies to make the mocha, she casually asked, "What's the Dunbar and Encyclopedia Effect?"

Amanda bit her bottom lip, not sure how to explain her self-created concept.

The Dunbar and Encyclopedia Effect was one of Amanda's labels for technology's clusterfucking of humanity. She'd read about a respected anthropologist named Robin Dunbar and his studies on the maximum number of relationships the human brain could process. The result was roughly 150 people. Maximum. In a world where collecting followers, friends and suitable dating prospects by the hundreds and thousands was considered normal; Amanda often wondered how this translated--or how it clusterfucked the population. Had people become a product of virtual operating instead of biological functioning?

The encyclopedia part of Amanda's Dunbar and Encyclopedia Effect referred to the pre-internet days when ignorance was bliss and access to information limited. Although Amanda believed knowledge was power, she often wondered if drowning in infinite knowledge clusterfucked the brain. Personal experience had taught her that absorbing knowledge in every boundless direction only lead to feelings of inadequacy and suffocation. As a result, Amanda rarely took chances in life because she never felt ready or prepared for anything. Her life was a clusterfuck.

Fortunately for Velma, the Dunbar and Encyclopedia Effect was a boring Ted Talk Amanda wasn't in the mood to lecture on. "It's nothing," she said in response to Velma's question about her odd phrase. "Just a silly theory I have about technology separating us more than connecting us."

"Is this technology theory why you're incapable of real life love connections?"

"I don't know," Amanda admitted. "Let's just say I come up with some crazy ideas when life doesn't go the way I want it to."

"Well," Velma began, "if it makes you feel any better, I think technology builds just as many walls as it does bridges." She nodded towards the tables where customers stared at electronic devices and mindlessly sipped hot drinks. "You'd think they're sitting alone in there."

"It's face-to-face interactions I miss," Amanda whispered as she observed the Starbuck's crowd. She turned back towards Velma and added, "You know? The vibration of another person's laughter. Interlocking fingers and tight hugs." Pausing for a breath, Amanda stared at her own interlocked fingers. "I can't even remember the last time someone held me."

"Do you need a hug?" Velma asked.

Amanda laughed. "Not today. Maybe later."

"Well, I'm happy to give hugs to those who need them." Velma steamed--or whatever it is they do--the mocha. "Whip cream?"

"Uh--Yeah'a!"

Pulling the whip cream out of a refrigerator, Velma chuckled. "So why don't you have a face-to-face conversation with Poop Man?"

Amanda looked over her shoulder at the man scarfing his muffin down--probably in an attempt to be gone before her return. In a quieter voice she said, "Because he's not Ian."

Velma placed the mocha on the counter. "Who's Ian?"

Turning back to face the friendly barista, Amanda said, "A bit of magic stuck in my computer--a virtual trap baited with fantasy. Why can't I just find something real?"

Placing her hand on the counter, palm up, Velma said, "Give me your hand, Love." Without hesitation, Amanda placed her hand on the woman's palm. Velma picked up Amanda's fingers and sandwiched them between her hands. A surge of energy passed between the two women. Warmth. Tingling. The magical vibration of life itself. "Stop waiting for life to happen to you--because life is waiting for you to happen to it." Velma let go of Amanda's hand and smiled.

Reaching for her mocha, Amanda looked up at Velma and grinned. "The wise truth, barista speaks."

"Ah!" Velma held up a finger. "If there was one being who felt the true force of life's energies, it was Yoda. I see great things in your future, Green One."

Amanda giggled and touched the edge of the cup to her lips. She let a sip of the chocolatey sweetness trickle down her throat and warm her core. "I hope you're right, Master Barista." With a wink, Amanda turned on her heel and walked back to her chair.

When Amanda returned to the table, Muffin Man thanked her for the maple pecan, then gathered his things to leave. "I kept your laptop safe," he said.

"Thank you. And I'm so sorry about--."

Muffin Man cut Amanda off with the wave of a hand. "Don't worry about it. Gives me a story to tell my co-workers." With a nod and a smile, Muffin Man was gone.

Sliding into the seat she'd fought so hard for, Amanda opened her laptop to finish where she'd left off. But before she could erase stalking evidence from her computer, she was bombarded by a slew of messages from Jeannie.

[[Jeannie] Amanda?]

[[Jeannie] Where did you go?]

Time lapse.

[[Jeannie] WAIT!]

[[Jeannie] You were stalking, weren't you?]

[[Jeannie] Do we need an intervention?]

Time lapse.

[[Jeannie] Amanda?]

[[Jeannie] You didn't go to Safeway already, did you?]

[[Jeannie] It's too early!]

[[Jeannie] Safeway Guy doesn't get there till 3]

[[Jeannie] And Geri can't meet us for Supermarket Sunday until then]

[[Jeannie] Amanda?]

Amanda glanced at the clock on her laptop--2:47 pm. Shit!

[[Amanda] Sorry! Long story]

[[Amanda] I'll fill you in]

[[Amanda] Still at Starbucks]

[[Amanda] Let me shut down my computer]

[[Amanda] 3 pm! Supermarket Sunday is on!]

[[Amanda] Safeway Guy BETTER be there today!]

Amanda clicked 'X's' to shut down windows on her laptop containing information about Ian like she was shooting targets at a gun range.

Window with Ian's Wattpad profile. Click.

Window with Ian's messages on the Star Wars forum. Click.

Window with Ian's ping pong results. Click.

Window with Ian's dragon boat team. Click.

Window with--.

The cursor hovered over the 'X' on the window displaying Ian's Twitter account. He'd never know if I browsed Twitter. Amanda glanced at the clock again. 2:49 pm.

Cautiously, she clicked the link for Ian's photos on his Twitter profile. When the images popped up, she discovered Ian was many things--but a photographer wasn't one of them. Most of Ian's pictures were quite--dull. Photos of Wattpad Headquarters. Photos of random household objects. Photos of bad scenery. Photos of nerdy memes. But there was one photo that grabbed Amanda's attention and halted her breathing. Who's the little boy on his lap?

Her heartbeat quickened as she stared at the image of Ian with a young toddler on his knee. Oh, gawd! I knew it! He's married. He's married with a family. The boy looks exactly like him.

Amanda's hand trembled--terrified to search further. She feared what she might uncover if she continued to click and scroll. Encyclopedias, she thought. This is too much information. It isn't healthy. You don't need to know.

If she closed the Twitter window now, Amanda could still hold onto a shred of hope that the little boy on Ian's lap was his nephew or cousin and not his son. A son meant he had a family, and if Ian had a family--.

The jinx magic will vanish--forever.

Amanda's eyes glanced at a link on the Twitter profile where Ian's likes were documented--all 1,465 of them. There was a part of her that wanted to know what things grabbed his attention and represented his preferences. But there was also a part of her that wanted to protect her dream of finally finding true love. Encyclopedias, her inner self repeated. Keep it real like an encyclopedia. You don't need false assumptions and conspiracy theories fucking things up.

Click

Amanda's inner crazy took over without warning, vetoing her encyclopedia logic. A quick scroll through the likes immediately revealed a pattern that unnerved her, red flags popping up in every corner of her reasoning. A profile picture appeared over and over on Ian's list of likes--a profile belonging to a gorgeous woman.

Tears welled at the base of Amanda's eyes. She couldn't breathe. Her heart pounded fiercely behind her ribcage. Please, she begged silently to herself. Please don't. An encyclopedia wouldn't want you to know who Georgette Pullman is.

Click. Amanda's inner crazy was a heartless bitch.

She stared lifelessly at Georgette Pullman's profile, a metaphorical belt of inadequacy cinching her lungs. A pharmacist in Toronto, Amanda read. That must be his wife.

Georgette appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties. Gorgeous hair. Perfectly toned body. Electric smile. Fashionable. Worldly. A person giving back to her community. If it wasn't for the excruciating pain in her chest, Amanda would be championing Georgette's amazing example of a female force to be reckoned with. It seemed Georgette was a true Jedi--not a wannabe like Amanda.

You're so stupid, Amanda lashed out internally. Of course that's the kind of woman he's attracted to! She glanced at her blurry refection in a window--an image of a woman hardly able to touch the bar of societal ideals on so many levels. How did you ever convince yourself he'd want someone like you?

[[Geri] I'm in my supermarket parking lot!]

[[Geri] Supermarket Sunday!]

[[Jeannie] Wait for me!]

[[Jeannie] East coast traffic sucks!]

[[Geri] We'll wait, J]

[[Geri] M? A?]

[[Mona] I'm shopping naked tonight]

[[Mona] from my bathtub]

[[Mona] Grocery delivery guy is hot]

[[Mona] Want him to deliver]

[[Mona] If you know what I mean...]

[[Geri] Amanda?]

Amanda unplugged her laptop and threw the cord in the bag.

[[Amanda] Packing up right now]

[[Amanda] Be there in 5 minutes]

[[Amanda] Tonight might be the night]

[[Amanda] I need to start happening to life]

[[Amanda] Safeway guy might end up in my cart...]