When she unwrapped the
iPad he
winked at her and
muttered something
about joining the
modern world, which to
her was a
sexless marriage,
three
rapacious screenagers
who only left their rooms to
rape the fridge and
mountain the sink with
washing-up, but she gave
it a go,
learnt to surf,
discovered
Facebook and Twitter,
made friends, read
blogs and through them
Lit and tumblr and
flickr,
clicked links she knew
she shouldn’t,
started an anonymous
email, made
new “friends”, one of
whom,
now that the house was
empty, was
waiting for her new
Skype name to
connect, for her to be
suitably
undressed, to show her
ability to take
direction in the use
of those
interesting objects
the postman had
unwittingly delivered,
a performance she would
record to show her
husband that his wife had
well and truly arrived
in the
Twenty-First Century.
Sublime
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