Thursday, October 18, 2007

The Conversation

My computer screen blinks for a microsecond and the display is back. The page has been refreshed.

I see a red envelope on the top left corner and beside it, in parenthesis, the magic number - (1).

I've got mail!

I can't wait. I just have to check my mail. Maybe it's him.
Maybe he has written a poem for me.
Maybe he has finally decided to tell me how he feels about me, things that have been left unsaid.
Maybe he just wants to drop a line, share a moment together through this technological interface, challenging the miles that separate us geographically.
Maybe it's one of those horrible pointless 'Please forward me or you will rot in hell' mails. Sigh.
I decide that I will check anyway.

I hold my breath as I click on the tab. . .

'Dear Citibank Customer, your account balance is ..." I do not care to read any further.

Disappointed, I return to the technological tomfoolery that I do for a living.

[minutes later]

I sign into G talk and search for his name. I stare at the round green blob for a second. I read his status message. I read it again. and again. Once again I stare at the green blob that is shining beside his name. I imagine him at work, staring at some paper as he rubs the back of his neck with his right hand, deep in thought. He shakes his head and combs his hair with his hand. I can almost smell him now. I continue to stare at the green blob. Occasionally I read his name.

Suddenly I hear the sound of a gong. No. That can't be Air Supply playing.

A small box pops up and I see his name on it. He has pinged me. We talk.


1 comment:

  1. beautifully described... yeah we all wait for the pings..
    i get another topic..


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