Enter Paul. A lonely, profoundly depressed teenager who has just been stood up (again) and is looking for a way to exit the stage of his own life.

Imagine if we were all that specific. Imagine if we walked into the room and said, "I am damaged. I am hungry. I am terrified of hurting you. Do you want to watch the sunrise even though it burns my skin?"

There is a sentence you never expect to read, and then there is that sentence.

I stumbled across the title Humanist Vampire Seeking Consenting Suicidal Person late on a Tuesday night, and I honestly thought my algorithm had finally broken. I laughed. Then I stared at it. Then I realized I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Have you seen this? Does the title make you uncomfortable or curious? Tell me I’m not alone in crying over a goth teenager and a girl who sparkles in the dark (but not in a Twilight way).

And Paul, this boy who walked into the night fully intending to disappear, suddenly finds himself in a 24-hour diner at 3 AM, teaching a 200-year-old vampire how to use an arcade punching machine. He is laughing. He is eating poutine. He is, for the first time in years, not thinking about the exit. The title is a "seeking" ad. A personal classified.