This post submitted for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.
The interviews started promptly at 8 p.m. in Peet’s Café in Beverly Hills. Each interview scheduled to run from three to eight minutes.
It was now 9:30 p.m. and Kitty had already interviewed 17 potential dates. Feedback was expected from participants usually after one or two days. Numbers one thru sixteen were all losers. Charlie who never stopped talking about himself. Earl who resembled her uncle Phil. Jesus who was a boy toy and knew it. Yuck!
But then came George. Number 18! Not only was he good-looking but was a writer and a painter. Well that’s what he said anyway and she was getting damn tired going from table to table. A little nod of the head from her and he understood.
She never made it to table 19.