She’d shuffled self consciously in the queue for the technical help desk, conscious of what three weeks of heartbreak had done to her. A young technician had waved her forward and she hoped she’d wiped off all the ice-cream on her cheek. They sat down at a chipped little white desk and he’d given her a lopsided smile that made her heart dip a little in her chest. An hour later, her laptop was declared utterly fine and the technician had pressed a small business card into her hand and whispered, “Valerie can help.”