Willful Isolation

This fiction writes itself easily as you sit in front

of that infernal screen. Your laughter is canned,

howls at me like a beast on the savannah. My

hands run restless as the shadows leap between

a supposed intimacy. You could call to me but

never do. I could call to you but relent to your

familiar isolation. The bridges break down,

collapse over the harbor, blocking any vessel

from entering or exiting.