“No calls. No emails. Not of that kind.”

Sarah displayed a smile that wasn’t seen. “Well, Mister Morris, you need to put your picture up on your home page.” One ankle bound in a soft suede hiking boot dangled suggestively. “Perhaps she’ll come calling one day.”

Morris looked aside and askance. “Who’s ‘she’?”

“Well, your own lost connection, of course.”

Morris looked forward at the distant Plains once more. “What makes you think I’m looking for my own lost connection?”

Sarah switched knees after resting her palms on the boulder beneath her. “Come now, Mister Morris. Those forums for people who were separated during everything from the Hungarian Revolution to Nine-Eleven are really sweet, but everyone knows you set up the site to find your own lost love.” She leaned forward, suddenly. “Is she a long lost love or is she a bit closer to home?”

Morris was unmoved. “Maybe I set up the site to earn a living.”

Sarah was unmoved from her lean forward, the top halves of her breasts exposed to the ample daylight. “A single banner ad placed at the top of each and every page?”

“Minimalist is best.” Morris was still staring at the Plains.

“An extensive bio directly off your home page, stuffed with loads of keywords related to every facet of your past, and yet no picture of your handsome self.” Sarah leaned forward even further, pushing the bounds of taste as only someone her age could. “All strikes me as someone putting himself out there to find something familiar, instead of something new.”