Fresh Hell

His phone vibrated on his cluttered desk. He kept his phone on silent because he wanted to and she always harassed him for it. She claimed that he was disconnected and ignoring her as well as making himself unavailable for no reason at all.

“Oh what fresh hell is this?!” He said too loudly garnering unwanted attention from nearby cubemates. “Sorry guys…”

His arm muscles resisted reaching for the phone, his brain ached over the potential content of the text that was undoubtedly from her. Despite all that, he grabbed the device, made the necessary gestures and stared down at the letters.

What are these credit card charges? the black letters in the grey bubble attacked him. The investigation had begun! Yippee!

He typed back, What? Where?

This was the painful life he led. A successful, hardworking husband and father interrupted from left field by untethered questions streamed to him by modern iTechnology. He imagined her, at her desk across the city getting his fresh hell all warmed up.

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