She sits at her desk, refreshing the page.
Over and over again.
Trying to gather information.
From the empty pages.
The black and empty void,
The terror in her heart,
The anxiety in her stomach,
The fog in her brain.
She knows she is torturing herself.
But she sits at her desk, looking at the flickering pixels.
Who is she.
Why her.
What’s so special.
Her heart skips a beat.
Her brain cringes.
Her stomach churns.
It is all there.
The evidence of the affair.
The evidence of her existence.
