"Heavens no, it's not for children! The user age starts at sixty-five."
Esther snorted. "Hear that? In twenty short years, Mr. Boss will have a date."
Matt waved his phone. "More like twenty seconds."
Tinker-Tinker!
"See!" he said with renewed vigor-and thumb typing.
"What just happened?" I asked Esther.
"Cinder sent him a Tinkerbell notification."
"Of what? The approach of Captain Hook?"
"It's just a glorified text message," Esther explained, "telling him a woman wants to
communicate with him. In Cinder-speak they call it a Glass Slipper. Only a Cinder-ella
can send a slipper to a Cinder-fella. That's one reason the app has become so hot."
Matt nodded. "Contrary to the Connie Francis song, boys go where the girls are, and
more women are on Cinder than any other app. They feel safer making the first move,
and I'm happy to let them. Once they swipe me right, Tinkerbell alerts me, and we can
set up a date to see if-"
"The Glass Slipper fits. I get it."
"And if it does . . ." Matt grinned. "We're on our way to the . . . uh-hem ball. That's
Cinder-speak for going to-"
"I get that, too. But what happens if Ms. Pumpkin Pot swipes left on you instead of
right?"