She hated walking home alone. It gave her time to dwell on things.
Everything was falling apart. She tried to use social media to save her world.
She held her new phone tight in her hand to ward off dark looks from passers by. It wasn’t working.
Nothing was working out.
The man in the shop had cut her brand new SIM in to two to try and make it fit. She tried with tweezers to fit it all inintoside the new phone. Nothing would work now she had smashed it to pieces. Her expensive purchase was in bits around her.
She threw caution to the wind and tried her old SIM to see if anyone was out there. Nothing good had happened since she had been forced out of her old job. She felt unfulfilled and was about to be homeless.
She would have to buy another phone to get on social media and the shops were closed.
She saw a bag slashed at the side of the road. It had a ringing phone inside.
Staring back at her from the screen was her own face. She liked the recognition and the moment of fame. It made her heart beat fast being on social media. It was a smile she hadn’t seen since leaving her accounting job for the public sector.
Rather than take the idea of being made homeless lying down she was going to do something about it.
Periscope was her truck out of the bad times.
She had lost most of her followers after her phone had crashed on the last few broadcasts. Now it had crashed again. She had no choice but to pick the stolen phone up and use it.
Would anyone listen to her just before midnight she wondered? Only one way to find out.
Only the lonely knew the way she felt tonight. She sung as she looked again at the stolen phone’s screen. Five new friends had followed her since she logged in to periscope, it was a start.
She wanted to strike while the iron was hot and find followers to join her campaign to stop the developers moving in on an old crypt. It wasn’t fair; it would destroy history and make her homeless. The suburb could not support more shops.
Then she saw something that changed her mood as she chewed the chocolate out of an eclair.
One viewer had left a comment. She skipped over it in a rush to jump on to salvage her lost followers. It said –
‘I like you. I tried to watch your scope. It was gone. You deleted it. I was sad. I felt bad for you.
She hated people who deleted their scopes. It was something she would never do. It was plain wrong.
She looked at the contents of the stolen bag she was holding. A packet of mints, clean tissues and a Nirvana CD. The owner did not seem the sort to delete a scope. The owner of this stolen phone was being hacked. Penny would have to wear a mask during her broadcasts so she did not get reported for theft. She did not want to be prosecuted for stealing.
She paused in front of this stolen phone. The screen refreshed as she closed down the broadcast. She got one anonymous viewer.
As she returned to her desk in the council offices in the early hours to do some work she realised the hours had flown. She must have been having fun. Finally.
She struggled to find out who this viewer was. It said they were watching from the web. Whoever the listener was she hoped they came back.
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