She has a slender build and a square face.
Her face lights up every time she touches him.
She is the gateway drug to the things his higher self doesn’t want to consume.
He turns to her when he is anxious, restless, when he feels like he has something to share.
He dresses her in nice brown leathers that hug her edges.
He goes out of his way to make sure she is always recharged, he would never let her run out of energy.
He shares his whereabouts with her no matter the time of day or errand.
His fingers slide across her front so gently, caressing her from top to bottom.
He never gets bored of her. She never says no. She is in the palm of his hand.
She is alive, she vibrates with an urgent demand for attention.
She wakes him up in the morning.
She plays him the music he likes.
She’ll play mindless games with him for hours at a time.
He is a smarter man because of her. She educates him. Keeps him up to speed on politics, world events and sports.
His eyes are always on her.
The kids are crying, we’re all drowning in the days’ needs. But his hands are still wrapped around her.
She finishes his sentences. Knows what he likes.
We all come second to her.
I want to crush that fucking phone with a hammer.