You began as a light, a face, a screen, a swipe. Soon enough you were flesh and blood, a hand in my hand, lips for my lips, Friday dinners.
Light faded. Lips met less often. Dinner went cold. You chose to fade, back to a dim screen. Ashes to ashes.
This is Alexandra’s ninth 50-word story. She thinks some internet strangers are a little too strange. She’s looking at you, Mister I-Can’t-See-You-Anymore-Because-You-Have-Bangs!