Prompt: What is your favorite way to spend a lazy day?

“What’s your favourite way to spend a lazy day?”

The message dinged into his inbox and he opened it eagerly, looking at the attractive woman’s face framed by a small circle beside the user name iprobablyhateyou.

His attention lingered on the u in favourite and he found himself already imagining her speaking in a cute English accent – or maybe an Australian one or Scottish. Then that familiar voice in his head reminded him that she could just be Canadian. Still, when she’d say sorry it would sound cute, he reasoned.

He went to her profile and scrolled through her pictures: she was on a beach, at the Eiffel Tower, on top of a mountain. In every picture she was alone, but sometimes he could see the shadow of a companion making its way into view.

Suddenly, he got jealous. Who was she with? Was she on a date? Could he compete with the shadowy man taking pictures of her on the summit of a snowy mountain?

He didn’t even read through her profile before sending her the message: “Who took that picture on top of the mountain?”

He waited for thirty minutes before checking if she’d replied.

She had read it but hadn’t responded.

He waited for thirty more minutes before sending another message: “What? Did I do something wrong?”

Again, silence.

For the next week, he messaged her three times a day and received no reply.

“Ok fine,” He typed out on the seventh day. “My favorite thing to do on a lazy day is to imagine where I will be in five, ten, fifty years. Will I still be alive? Will you? Will the person that I sat next to on the subway? I sit by myself in my mind and I wonder if I’m a good person, or what even constitutes a good person. Then I wonder if it’s even worth it to think about because we’ll never know and we can never know and even if we did know, it would all be relative. Then I think, is ignorance bliss? Then I say definitely not angrily to myself. Then I worry about my rent and my bank account and if I remembered to zip the zipper on my pants up after I went to the bathroom. Then I get angry at myself for worrying about such menial things. Then I tell myself that it’s not menial at all, it’s how I am able to maintain the type of lifestyle that allows me to entertain these sort of thoughts. Then I get stressed and bored and confused and usually order pizza and watch Game of Thrones.”

“I love Game of Thrones!” She responded.


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