From the crack of noon, my day started on the wrong foot. The sound of a new text bled chaos into calm silence.
Digital service is the last remaining present from the pre-war era. Our father’s father couldn’t see fit to give us a inhabitable world but gift wrapped all their toys.
Someday, the satellites will fall back to Earth on wax wings and the world will be thrown into savage darkness; yet as Janis says “I’d trade all of my tomorrows, for a single yesterday.”