She reached for the mouse.
Now, years later, the laptop sits in a closet. The battery is dead. The screen is cracked. But if you plug it in, if you wait through the whirring of the old hard drive, the desktop will load. And in the corner, the blue icon will still be there. facebook icon for desktop shortcut
Just a degree. Maybe two. She refreshed the desktop. The icon snapped back to perfect geometry. But she knew what she saw. The next night, the blue was darker. Not the cheerful, corporate cerulean of 2010, but a bruised, midnight indigo. The ‘f’ looked less like a letter and more like a scar. She reached for the mouse
For three weeks, the icon sat untouched. Her cursor learned to orbit it like a wary satellite. She checked her messages via browser bookmarks. She typed “facebook.com” manually, like a pilgrim refusing the paved road. But the shortcut remained. And at night, in the corner of her screen, it grew. The screen is cracked