Her laptop pings in the background while she furiously types away at a word doc. She looks up, a bit disoriented at the ping, identifies the source as a new mail in gmail, and ignores it.
He doesnt deserve my time. He does not deserve my patience, or my worry.
She goes back to her word doc. Clicks and clacks at the keyboard for a while and then grunts in disappointment. She is distracted. Her words dont come back to her, that fine silvery line of thought in her head has faded to the white blankness of nothing. The shimmer of words, pulsing with meaning, erased from their emboss on the white.
She sighs, and moves the mouse over to her inbox, angry with herself for having no discipline. Of course the email is from him. She does not need to check to know that. But it's not meant for her. It's meant for another, come to her because she was subscribed in the list.
More words, more charm, more sentences that clearly say I'm available now, do you want to hook up? Or maybe that's just her imagination. What it really says is, I'm available now, let's talk. Get to know each other.
The later was more scary than the former. Though the former gave her chills too. She had always seen that charm directed only to her, meant only for her. Just her's. No sharing.
She compose a new email, copied his message to her in the body and in the subject wrote three simple words, I hate you and then clicks on the send button.
She understand the heights of viciousness she has reached today. But she also understands that there are levels higher up when she gets no response to her email.
He has moved on, she, on the other hand, hasn't.