From the day
Perspective: The Teenager · Tactile
I’m hunched over my desk, picking at the fraying hem of my low-rise velour sweats while the dial-up hiss finally cuts to silence. My fingers itch to grab that plastic Robosapien I saw at the mall, imagining the sleek, cold weight of its remote in my palm instead of this clunky mouse. Jennifer Lopez is breathy and desperate over my speakers, telling LL Cool J that everything she has is his, and I’m nodding along while my AIM away message glows neon green. Mom says there’s a war brewing over the radio, but I’ve got to get offline before she yells; brb, heading to the kitchen for a snack.