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.

Act 2, Scene 2: Low-tech

He hasn’t managed to pronounce my name correctly ever since that first time he did.
So what he did was wave; his other hand hovering over the laptop.

I raised my eyebrows at the gesture – yet I walked up to him anyway.
It’s not like I have a reason not to.

I bowed down a bit and peeked at the screen.
The Original Language; meaning a ton of symbols and characters I have never seen before.
He didn’t seem to be bothered by my what-are-those-exactly expression, instead pointing at the screen and asked me how to search something in that file.

A little ‘oh’ and my fingers automatically found the two keys needed.
I glanced aside to check if that was what he meant.
Needless to say, the amazed look on his face answered my unvoiced question.
I rolled my eyes.

And they say we’re the people from a developing country.