Part Three of my super story:

It took me a while after she left my sights for me to actually come back into reality. I looked down at the napkin she handed me. In artistic penning, a treasure hoard of numbers in groups of threes and fours appeared before me. I felt like the richest man in the world, yet, all that I was holding was a piece of paper with a phone number.

The next thing I remember was sitting at home, busily typing away on my computer in an ocean of rings and dings of Internet messaging. The dull glow of the monitor was the only illumination I needed. The Internet was another world for me, one to escape the stress of reality and to discuss my life with those who were not a part of it. Of course, She was the topic of every conversation.

But isn’t it too early?

A faceless author of words chimed her response. Maybe, but she seems like she’s interested. It doesn't hurt to call.

Maybe. She did a good job confusing me.

Every woman knows not to just let a guy feel like he won. We have that kind of power. It’s all part of the chase. We want you to catch us; we just want to make sure you’re willing to try very hard.

The face of my companion was not important. Everyone on the Internet was a faceless median in which to share a secret. Some of the faceless would be known in person, but on the Internet, it did not matter as much. It was the knowledge and wisdom provided that helped me to live each day. It was the outlet for which I could yell, scream, vent, cry, and just generally clear my mind.

Another faceless window chimed its attention at me. Hi, how are you?

Hey, long time no talk. I’ve been doing all right. Some recent events have boggled me, but I try my best to figure things out.

Oh? Care to tell me about it?

I repeated what happened to me earlier. Thoughts of some other person, one with a face and a real life just like mine filtered into my brain. A reality check of sorts to remind me that this other world of mine was just another extension of the real thing. The rush of the possibility that in a way, every person I talked to had everything in common with me. We all wanted to get away, to talk to those who would understand, to express ourselves without feeling threatened, all done from the safety of our own homes. I shook my head of such realistic thoughts and continued.

Listen, you’re a really great guy. You shouldn’t be so worried about it. I’m sure she sees something about you that every girl wants in a guy.

Thanks, that’s comforting to know.

Like me, I’ve never even met you, but from our talks, it feels like I’ve known you forever.

“You can’t know me,” I chuckled to myself out loud.

She could not. My illusion of being a faceless talking body was twice destroyed in one night, first by myself, and then by another.

I thanked her for her kindness and said my goodbyes. The whirling of the computer’s cooling fans whined to a halt, and my world returned to me. The headlights of passing cars interrupted the darkness of the night through half drawn blinds. I sat for a moment, letting the lights draw pictures for me, pictures of her deep dark eyes, of her pure smile.

With the encouragement of my faceless companions, it was decide. Tomorrow night I would call her. I would just say my hellos and let her know my desire to see her again.

I crawled into my bed, letting the softness echo my decision and usher me off to sleep.