I am sitting at one of the tables at Apple, waiting for a genius. A woman, a man, and a child are speaking Spanish. The man and child leave, and the woman begins a conversation with me. She explains she was telling the man about an app that lets you spy on your loved ones, to see if they are cheating. She explains how it works. I say, “But you will be a spy.” Her lip rises in a crooked smile. She has a Frida Kahlo mustache I find attractive. Her body is ample, her eyebrows animated. She says, “I don’t care about being a spy. I could get AIDS.” I say, “That’s a point.” I say, “Do you check his phone for texts?” She says, “I have a boyfriend. He doesn’t sleep over much.” I say, “Have you done this before?” She nods and says, “They all cheat.” She shows me the ad for the app and says, “Are you going to get it?” I say, “Not at the moment.” She says, “You seem so interested.” I say, “I’m interested in you.”