He’s In My Emails

Sitting at a McDonald’s PlayPlace. A woman ignores her happily running and screaming two children (ages 8-11 or so), focusing intently on her pink, beglittered Blackberry.

I get my kids to go, come back to throw away some trash.

The woman is standing, talking on the phone now.

“He’s gotten into all my email accounts. He’s in my emails.”

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