“Searching…” Step forward. Step back. Wave it around. Off. On. Still
no signal. Expensive gadget? Plastic junk. She’s waiting. Damn. Buy
long-stemmed roses.
The words feel thick and foreign in your mouth. You try again. Some
nod. Most are indifferent. Bell rings. As they shuffle out, you smile
through your despair.
“No new mail.”
“No new mail.”
“1 new message(s)!” Heart jumps! Hands shake. Click, click.
Face falls. More spam.
Highways intertwine, a concrete canopy lit by the unsleeping city.
Stargazing, we find constellations not in the light-choked sky, but in
twinkling offices.