Most Dreaded Inbox

It stares at me, that red eye, announcing another incoming message. It’s from her. I already know this. Even without looking. Which I can’t bring myself to do. The hand won’t move the cursor over and the finger wouldn’t click to open the message even if the hand cooperated. I am numb, paralyzed, stuck in a waking dream that carries me down stream to an inevitable waterfall where I’ll tumble over and drop, crashing onto the jagged rocks to crack my skull and shatter my bones. Or maybe a pterodactyl will skewer me in flight and carry me off to a nest of ravenous juvenile pterodactyls. You can see the conundrum, surely, and sympathize with my plight and my inability to move.

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