She sits behind her computer, eyes drifting, organizing windows on the screen. Each box immaculate.
She cuts the words from one conversation, pastes them into the next. Nobody notices the messages are hand-me-downs. It’s faster than re-typing.
She types, and cuts, and pastes. Making slight alterations here. Or there. She calculates it all to a tee.
She maximizes her friends; the perfect social network. She chooses only the most predictable clients, in fear the someone, someday, will take her by surprise.
And what would she do then?
14.12.10
