Act 3, Scene 2: Sincerely

Prompt fromĀ here.

For the umpteenth time in the last two hours, I froze in front of the old Macbook with the tiny cursor blinking in the almost-empty e-mail draft.

Dear A

How do people write e-mails nowadays? How do they start? Do they still use the old “Dear X” thing? I took a deep breath and squinted my eyes at the screen, hesitantly pressing the delete button a few times and typed in something else.

Good morning,

The forgotten telly blinked on the other side of the room – could tell from the dialogues that it was still the House MD rerun. I’ve forgotten what it’s about since I tried writing this bloody thing. Good morning, though? It’ll be less funny if he opened the mail at midnight. Nah.

Hi,

The hell. This is not high school. And it sounds unprofessional. Let’s not jeopardize my own career here. Remember the big fat line between work and personal life.

Dear A,

Do I really have to use this format?

Dear A,
Thank you for

Thank you for… what?

I groaned, throwing my head back and stared at the ceiling, somehow knowing how long the night was going to be.