He realized with a jolt of horror that he didn't know how to be alone with his own thoughts anymore. The 1080x1920 window was his only view of the world, and without it, he was blind.
"Five minutes," he lied. He couldn’t help it. His hand felt twitchy whenever he wasn't holding it. It wasn't just social media or the news; it was the tactile perfection of the device. The haptic feedback felt like a heartbeat. The screen resolution was so crisp it made the real world look dull and pixelated. 1080x1920 When you cant keep your hand off your...
Before he could think, before he could stop himself, his hand had already snapped back onto the device. The light flooded his vision again, warm and welcoming. He realized with a jolt of horror that
The dim glow of the smartphone was the only thing illuminating the messy apartment at 3:00 AM. Elias sat hunched over the kitchen table, his thumb rhythmically swiping, tapping, and dragging. He couldn’t help it
He forced his hand to open, flat against the table. It shook. The screen timed out, turning the room pitch black. In the reflection of the dark glass, he saw a ghost of himself—eyes sunken, shoulders slumped. The phone vibrated. A soft, magnetic hum. Bzz-bzz.
His thumb was starting to ache—a dull, throbbing pain in the joint—but the dopamine hit of the next scroll silenced the protest. He looked at his hand. It looked pale, claw-like, permanently molded to the dimensions of the casing. When he tried to set it down on the wood table, his fingers curled involuntarily, grasping at empty air.
He looked down at the glowing rectangle. A notification popped up—a simple game he’d downloaded. “Your kingdom needs you.” He tapped. Then he checked his mail. Then he scrolled through a feed of people he didn't know, living lives he didn't want.
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