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He was thirty-seven, divorced, and had just spent his Friday night fixing a leak under his sink. His definition of "a good time" had shrunk to a dry sink and eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Still, he pocketed the number.

"Hello?" A woman's voice. Not sultry. Not robotic. It sounded tired, like she'd been folding laundry for three hours.

They talked until 2 a.m. Not about love or loneliness, but about the worst pizza toppings (pineapple: Nora yes, Leo no), the proper way to fold a fitted sheet (impossible, both agreed), and whether a hot dog was a sandwich (a thirty-minute debate).

"So… this isn't for…"

He smiled, folded it carefully, and tucked it into his wallet.

Back in his cramped apartment, with the sound of the neighbor's yapping dog drilling into his skull, he dialed.

"I don't know."

"A good time? Depends. Do you like crossword puzzles and mildly judgmental cats?"

It was what he'd found instead.

A pause. Then a short, sharp laugh. "Oh, God. The purple marker one? My friend Jenna thinks she's a comedian." Download - -Movies4u.Vip-.For.A.Good.Time.Call...

"I forgot what my own laugh sounds like," he said. "Until just now."

Nora didn't answer right away. Then: "Seven-letter word for 'starting over.'"