“Text me.”

“Ok, I will.”

Later that evening between the drinks and subtle things.. “Hold that thought, I need to powder my nose”.

“Sure, but be quick, I really need to talk to you about this”

Distracted .. “Sure .. just a second..”

Incessant beeping.

“What now? ”

Alisha K. liked your status.  Happy dance.


Text from Sherlock H. “Did you send out the application yet?.” Damn. Reply “Not yet, dinner with the better half, will do it asap.”


Email from System Admin “Stored procedure has crashed and burned and destroyed the desktop client application.”

Recompile. Quick compose to all. “I’ve taken care of it.”.

Beep Beep.

Email from FirmX “Quarterly meet this Wednesday. Please respond now with dinner selection.” Chicken.

Damn I need to pee.


Oh Shit! My awesomely latest and supremely smartest smart phone with the speediest of speediest processors just fell in the effing toilet bowl. High speed reflex. Hands in the toilet bowl.



She woke up with a heavy head, much like a hangover but she swore she hadn’t had any alcohol the previous night. Puzzled, she reached for her phone. It wasn’t there. That’s right, it had fallen in the toilet yesterday.

But wait, where was  the night stand that the phone usually sat on? Her hands clammed up and she attempted to tug at the bed sheet. Instead of the luxurious blue Egyptian cotton, she came upon a basic threadbare white sheet.

“Where the heck am I?”

She walked out. The house seemed like something from a faint distant memory. Yet not a memory that was hers.

She met a lady on the street. “Excuse me, where am I?”

“59th and 5th my friend. You ok ?”

“Yes, but isn’t there an Apple store on 59th and 5th?”

“A what store? You want some fruit ? Go to the vendor just outside Central Park. Here, look.”  Points diagonally opposite.

She was bewildered. The Plaza Hotel stood there, and the Subway station on the Southeast Corner of the park was intact.”

She found a coffee vendor. “Do you have a Square reader?”

Laughter. “You need a doctor. Here, this coffee is on me.”

He came sat by her on the park bench. She squealed in delight! “Hi baby where have you been? We were just having dinner at St. Regis and I went to the bathroom.. sorry I took so long. You were telling me about this great new App you wanted to build for the iPhone?” That shirt really brought out the blue in his eyes. Blue, like the deepest part of the ocean.

“Sweety, are you ok? What’s this nonsense about Apps and what the hell is an iPhone? Come on, we need to look for a new apartment where puppies are allowed. Here I have the New York Times. I saw this great place a few blocks away too! I am excited. While we look, you can tell me all about the book you’re writing about Ellis Island. How is your research on the Immigrant records going? Did you visit the museum?”


New York Times. December 15th, 1950.

No smart phones, no Apple Store, no Google and no connection to anything except what is right in front of you.

Real conversation.

This week’s challenge asks to write about a Lost Art. I think real, wholehearted, honest, undistracted conversation, complete with eye contact;  is a lost art. Look back at your past month and tell me how many real conversations you have had – ones where your smart phone, or your ever so filled calendar, or the fact that it is so unnecessarily easy to access you;   did not take you away from what or who was in front of you.

I’ve had none.




One thought on “Speechless.

  1. Pingback: Taxing Taxes | litadoolan

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