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21.12.2013

Wishfulfilment International Inc. (part 2)

"Shit!" you think. "That must be that virus they were talking about at lunch time."

You are about to switch off. Better not touch anything until an expert has had a look at it. But then you notice that 'wish' has begun to blink.

"Select! Select!" it shouts at you.

One mouse-click takes you to the next page. It's blank, except for a sentence at the top left of the screen:

HELLO, LUCY. WHAT CAN I DO FOR YOU?

"What the heck…?" you think and tap in, "who are you? what do you want from me?"

I DON'T WANT ANYTHING. YOU PRESSED THE WISH-BUTTON.

"so?"

WELL, I SUGGEST YOU MAKE YOUR WISH.

You've never felt comfortable with computers. The idea of one talking to you is frightening. You slam the lid shut and pull the plug. Only after a few hectic breaths do you begin to calm down and laugh at yourself.

"Silly girl. To be afraid of a laptop!"

Still, you don't turn it on again that night; the telly it is instead. Your mind wandering back to the couple in the luxury flat, you pour yourself a glass of wine from a supermarket carton. The soap opera isn't becoming any better while you're doing the dishes. It's merely washing over you. What if you were that wife over there, enjoying a candlelight dinner with your handsome husband?

The next day stretches like chewing gum, as if it knew you can't wait to get home to your window to steal a peek of the life on the other side. At last your shift ends and you pack with all the other commuters into the bus. The smell of late sweat and early beers makes you gag. Are you really doomed to the deadlock of such an existence?

Back in your living room, you fling the few bills that represent your mail onto the sofa. You've hardly taken your post by the window, when a Jaguar turns into the garage opposite and you know that it's the smiling lady's husband.
(To be continued)

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