The ScreenA Story by Dave M. PitmanHe sits, face emotionless, without speaking. The only noticeable movement, aside from his right hand and arm as he glides the computer mouse around the desk, is the nervous bounce of his foot. I pretend to look around, hoping he'll look my way, so I can say hello and start a conversation. Yet his eyes do not deviate from their master: the screen.
So I settle into my little nook, fire up the broswer, and begin to surf through endless pages of nonsense. I am not looking for anything, yet still I surf. I get on Facebook, but no new messages or comments or status updates, and I wonder what was life before our master: the screen?
The guy beside me awakens me from my vegetative stare with a crunkle as he took a finger full of chips from the little metalic bag. I look with my eyes, but do not turn and speak. I am lost now, in my own little world of me; I cling tightly to my glowing master: the screen.
After my time has been consumed, I roll the mouse to the "x" and click. I gather my things: my smartphone, cigarette lighter, and my laptop, and stand. I stretch myself, and blink a few times. I pick up my bag and look one more time at my master, then turn and walk away. Yet, still I know it won't be long until I see my master once again. © 2010 Dave M. PitmanAuthor's Note
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1 Review Added on July 28, 2010 Last Updated on July 28, 2010 AuthorDave M. PitmanSomerville, ALAboutI have always primarily written lyrics and poetry, but lately I've been tinkering with some novel ideas. Over the next few months I'll be releasing a few short stories, as a prelude to beginning my fi.. more..Writing
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