Eustace had only been on one blind date before tonight. That time, his friend Steve from the office had pestered him into seeing his cousin from Washington so many times that he had finally said yes. She wasn’t bad to look at—wasn’t particularly good to look at either—but she was tall, blonde, and had breasts big enough that he could distract himself from her equally large nose. Tonight was supposed to be different. Eustace combed back his toupee and brought his thumb and pointer finger over his mustache to smooth it down. That would have to do.

Outside the restaurant, a long line had formed behind the shrubbery that stood like sentries on the sidewalk. It was five minutes before he read the black banners above the windows: Dark Table. The instructions from his sister were clear: Go inside, find a short girl with a dark bob, and be open-minded. He would try.

An older man with hairy knuckles escorted him into a bright lounge. He wanted to tell him it was rude to wear dark sunglasses in a building, but the man moved quickly back to the front. Eustace tugged at his dress shirt, convinced he looked as uncomfortable as he felt. Sweat condensated on his forehead. Find a dark bob—or was it an up do?—and say hello.

“Eustace?” The voice was throaty and feminine. He turned to his right. “Oh good, it must be you! I’m Shirley.”

“You already know my name,” he said. Besides the obvious height difference he didn’t know why his sister had told him to be open-minded. She didn’t have a large nose at least.

“So, have you eaten here before?” she prompted. He tried to look interesting.

“No.” He cleared his throat. “Is it good?”

“Well it’s about to be the most authentic blind date of your life,” she said. Before he could question, the server gave them a pair of dark sunglasses and led them into the pitch black.