I stare at it, and it stares back at me.
It doesn’t blink, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t twitch. It just stares at me, taunting me, defying me, thumbing its electronic nose at me.
The room is darkened in the early darkness of the late autumn, the soft glow burning my retinas with its pale unconcern. My fingers move to the keys, hovering, itching, ready to pound relentlessly, but nothing comes. I rub my eyes with my fingertips, sighing deeply. It’s going to win again, something inside tells me. It’s going to win again, and I will have to click here to to finish reading this entry
