Pick-up Artist Cells, Weekly Short-Short Note, 410 Characters

Ever since I was born, my heart rate has skyrocketed just by making eye contact with a woman, but the other day, I participated in a clinical trial.

"Anyone will be able to talk to women with ease," the doctor said. What was being transplanted were pick-up artist cells—apparently cultured from the cells of professionals who hit on women on street corners, provided by Company A.

A single injection, and it was over without any pain. A few hours later, the expression on my face as I smiled in the mirror was excessively suave.

In front of the station, I spotted a beautiful woman. My feet moved on their own.
I hit on the woman I saw.
It was a perfect pick-up line, even if I do say so myself.

……But that was only the beginning.

The next person I saw was a woman in a suit.
Again, a pick-up line.

When I entered a convenience store, I hit on the high school girl at the register.
At the post office, I hit on the man at the counter.

The pick-up artist cells were multiplying. Regardless of age or gender, I couldn't help but hit on every single person I met.

As a result, I couldn't move forward. Every time I saw someone, I would hit on them.
I was supposed to go to work today, but it was already evening, and I was still in the shopping street two hundred meters from my house.