The evening gray has arrived early. In her dimly lit room, she checks her cell phone and sets it on the table next to the dog-eared book of Infinite Jest.
No new email. Good.
She blows on the steam and slurps her herb tea.
The screen on the table flashes.
She fiddles with the frayed neckline of her t-shirt and takes another sip, then another, before reaching for the phone to check the message.
Are they inviting me…? To dinner?
Her big toe, protruding from the hole in the sock, wiggles.
When was the last time I went out?
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot