She awoke to the sound of her phone binging off another text message. Rolling over and plopping her hand down perfectly on top the black rectangle without pre gaze, she lifted the phone high above her head looking up towards the ceiling to scan the screen and simultaneously elongate the space between her shoulder blades and stretch her back back to earth.
She said in response to the piddle drunkenly sent into space and back only to be so…
Throwing off the covers and rolling out of bed, Jessica threw her phone with back spin across the soft surface of the bed with a force she had not intended. Toppeling in cartwheels across the puffy white quilt over and down to the cement floor.
She stood thinking that her phone had survived much worse this before... but maybe this was worthy of a momentary panic.
She screeched like her aunt. She hated when she did that.
Diving with arms out-stretched across the bed and shuffling on her chest to peer over the side of her eloquent 600 dollar Ikea frame and mattress to the floor below, only to find what she had been dreading.
Her phone was in shambles. No more text messages back and forth to space, no more quickies in the bathroom with Ricky Martin, no more nothin because...
Jessica’s phone was broken.