"Me Too." by Carla Bozon

The keyboard was shrieking again.
A rock ‘n roll of a story well-sought,
To the banging of heedless fingertips.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Click it went.
No pause.

As usual.

You dare take a breath.
He hears it.

“This will take another while. I’m sorry.”

You smile.
And wait it out.
It’s a story after all.

Your story.

As always.
Your smile widens.


The keyboard was shrieking still.
A rap of a story well-played,
To the beat of rapid fingertips.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Click it went.
No pause.

“Can I peek?”

You ask.
He grins.
With eyes never leaving the screen,
He shakes his head.

Of course.

You wait more.
Relishing in the keyboard song,
Smiling as you did.
And wishing it would stop.

It did.

Finally.


The keyboard gave a last shriek.
A fleeting note of a story well-told.
To the strike of a freed fingertip.
Click.
..
..
..
Silence.


“It’s a love letter to you again.”
He says.

Your face lights up.
A cartoon of a happy ending.

“What’s the title this time?”
You ask.

He smiles again.

And this time looking,
He answers,


“I’m Sorry.”





The cartoon becomes a spoof.





****

The keyboard was shrieking again.
A ballad of a story well-bought,
To the strumming of lonely fingertips.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click it went.

You smile at your own tune.
And stare at your own screen.

A few more clicks,
and you name your own story.

Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.

Me Too.