Instant Trauma

Can’t get email back.  Can’t hover by the pillar box waiting with a sickly smile for the man with his bunch of keys.  Two clicks of a mouse and it’s gone. Strafing through the ether.  You knew you should have tidied up your address book, if only you’d paused after that first tap, registered the question about which recipient you meant.  But no, tap, tap and zip it went.  Sizzling its way into Auntie June’s Inbox: <> instead of your mate Steph’s: <>.  All the graphic details of the night spent with your new man.  And you couldn’t wait could you?

*Originally published by (now archived)