The Nightly Conversation

Photo by Igor Starkov on Unsplash

She sat there, like a lump on a log, just staring at the phone. It was like she was in a trance, mouth agape, eyes fixed, unmoving besides the flick of her finger on the screen.

What was she looking at, what could possibly be so interesting?

“Honey, what are you looking at?”

Agitated, “Honey, what are you looking at?”

Extremely agitated, “HONEY, WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?”

As if awaking from a dream state, “Huh, are you talking to me?”

“Well, yeah, you’re the only other person here.”

“Oh, I thought you were talking to the dogs. What’s up?”

Exasperated, “What are you looking at?”

Looking up from the phone again, “What did you say?”