This is one of those ones when he’s going to wake up with The Fear, and as events slip back into his mind the anxiety gets greater. A quick check on WhatsApp and everything seems good, A check on Facebook and nothing there, Twitter, the same.
As the shoulders relax and a sight of relief is given, he remembers there is a game on today and goes to see what is being said on Follow Follow. He sees a post with his name against it. He sees the time against the post and knows we was absolutely cunted at that point. Shoulders tighten, gone from flat to an angle of 45c, and his stomach starts to churn nervously.
It’ll be alright, just chatting about how great he is.
A trembling hand moves the mouse, and his spasming finger manages at the second time of asking to click down. The page opens.
oh sweet suffering %^*&, what have I done? It’s not just a stupid post, it’s a fucking love ballad!
His mind now has everything to torture himself for the rest of the day.
He needs a drink.
The end.
^^Sorry, the muse just took me^^