This is the way it always goes:

Hey, I say. Hey, come on. The least you could do is ::something::, something to prove that you're - I don't know - alive, aware. ::Something:: like that.

To which I reply; Nope. The least I could do is what I'm doing now.

Indeed? I say, self-righteously. It seems like you're doing nothing at all.

And that makes me smile. I look over, I reply; That's right. Indeed.

A few blinks later and the day picks up and leaves. I try to anticipate this, but there's always some part of me that has the nerve to be surprised. Funny how, at night, it's easier to see everything you didn't accomplish.

*

NOTE: narrative prose makes most barbs go down more smoothly - or so I like to believe.

ALSO: I think that all I'm saying is: what a waste of digital space, maybe I should move this account uphill or somesuch.