The young woman fiddled busily with her phone. Another meaningless message, no doubt. I’m in the train. I’ll be with you soon. How I hate the rain.
Her eyes scanned her inbox for the umpteenth time. No new messages.
She saw the disapproval in his eyes. But he didn’t understand. The phone was her. It had all her pictures. Contained all her friends. Was her eyes, her ears, her mouth. Her memory of the past and her plans for the future. When noone called, or texted, did she really exist?
The phone vibrated and she answered eagerly. She was alive.
Stray Thoughts 