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CHAPTER ONE
Hello, I’m Astrid
For as long as I can remember, I have been in love with love
War daisies throughit toat the inevitable marshmallow mess Those were ave estures Love It was everywhere I turned
My mother, father and I lived in a small cabin on the California property we shared with several other families “Hippies” they called us in town A cult If ere either of those things, so be it My childhood was happy and full, and I never wanted for anything I never would have left it, either, except ift needed to be shared with the world
So here I aeles,five hundred dollars in a satchel at ers fold the hem of hts I never expected to see in real life whiz past Buildings that reach toward the sky, billboards advertising radio stations Color and noise everywhere
Why didn’t I refuse to go? Already Ithat followed The hours of reading underthe clouds drift lazily above I should have gone on a hunger strike or tried another crying jag, but my mother insisted there are people beyond the co ree with her
Around my tenth birthday, my mother started to notice what made me different When a person expressed an eer or mirth, I matched it Empathy, she called it An extreme version
Once our neighbor received news from Canada that her sister had passed away She took to her bed and cried for a week So did I That sense of loss and regret…I could alto coh I didn’t have one and never hbor’s sister
Weddings at the commune were the happiest days for room would reach out and take hold of me It became so impossible to contain my joy that my mother would have to remove h More than anything in this world, I adore love I write poe, oes wild over a kiss on the cheek
The world needs more love and empathy, my mother said Go spread it
My first stop was the Internet café in town We didn’t have co to assistfor in the Wanted section of the online foru when I saw it That turned out to be true The advertise screen was simple:
Wanted: A non-judg woman
Create a unique, loving community with three families
Fee negotiable
I didn’t need to look any further An e my interest and the response back contained an address in Bel-Air, Los Angeles The owner of the Internet café helped me map a route to the location He asked me if I wanted to have dinner, too, but I declined his kind offer in the interest of answering the advertisement Surely they will be overrun by candidates I don’t want to miss this opportunity to see if ift
The bus lets me out at the bottom of a hill and I check the closest house for an address Relieved that I’rip on my satchel and journey up the palm tree-lined road The mansions I pass remind me of The Great Gatsby, which I’ve read over a hundred ti eared and worn I wonder how many families live inside each of these homes Surely it can’t only be one fale eccentric millionaire That only happens in books
Athe reservoir brings me to a stop I double-check the address on ins to skitter and race at the thought of going inside and being scrutinized by strangers What if I’m not what they want?