I Love to Write

She sat in bed for the fifth straight night, staring at her tablet and hearing the buzzy hum of the TV in the background. This was it, she thought. This is what my life is. Digital death. Dying a little each night without contact, without touch, without love.

The tablet pinged, and she clicked on the envelope and answered another message from an anonymous face, and her Friday night was blank and blank and blank and blank...

Like so many before.