Danielle Holmes

Cyberella

As the automated floor-to-ceiling shades draw, exposing the somnolent, dark room to the soft caressing warmth of the Los Angeles sunrise, his cellphone pinged, alerting him to a new email. His eyes flicker, as his mind slowly shifts gears, a small groan escapes his throat as he rolls, semi-consciously right and towards his nightstand, slapping aimlessly around the smooth marble, sloppily searching for the emission of said sound. His palm lands on his cellphone. “Ping” as if reacting to his irritability, it sounds off again. Then, again and again, the rate and intensity picking up, before his fingers find the side button, silencing the anxietal quips. A quick, non-sequential swipe up on the screen, opens the holographic-like Home Screen, at eye level.