pjlamb
The room is filled with screens. The children seem almost glued to them. I walk around the room, calling out their names, but no one even looks up. Has our lives become nothing but screens? Has the screen become more real that what I see out my window?
Sandy stood at the forklift, unsure how to use it. Could it lift me? I know I may be light, but my heart is heavy and so are my feet. Could it carry the weight? Can I?