Dead Spam

It's been perhaps a little over a year since --- died (She might have been named Esmerelda, Esme for short?). It was tragic, moreso than death is regularly, since she was young and all, and so unexpected.

Most of the people who knew her have come to some sort of terms, some kinda moving on, J included. He was (had been) friends with Esme. Really, she was his buddy's girlfriend, but she had immediately become a part of the group and a regular at their parties, their shenanigans (yeah I said shenanigans). When J was uncertain about getting a job, Esme had found the perfect thing for him- she knew someone with a workshop who needed a hand but was also into new design ideas, building concepts. J had some prototypes to show for it now.

They hadn't spent much time one-on-one but there was the afternoon they watched the Science channel and that long and side-tracked journey to the airport in Philly to pick his buddy up- where J was driving and Esme was navigating and it wasn't even until they got there that he realized the radio was off. Esme was like that.

So anyway, here we are now about a year later and J's stomach just turned over for a second to see Esme's name in his inbox, bold unopened. It's spam of course.

He can't help but click on it though. Esme, he's saying, in his temples.

If the computer screen wasn't so bright and stiff and mechanical

The next day it's three more. (Support my good friend with a small donation and get double back! I used this product and lost 30 lbs in 30 days! Pass this along to five people you know or the curse will be on you)

And so on, but he clicks. He clicks he clicks with some strange feeling, starts deleting them but never marking them spam and they keep coming, from Esme's account, more and more and more and it seems like he should do something about it, finally. Should he contact the service? Should he change his settings- J does not want to block Esme, Esme's name, her email. Her whatever it is.

It's stupid J.

He's talked to some other people and some are very upset, that are getting the messages too. It's only a few from the circle that really knew her, random choices- maybe more but not everyone mentioned it, probably, thinks J. But it still feels personal, seeing Esme and JBird335, two people he knows on that monitor.

Before his computer crashes

(J was not good with these things, only moderately average- the workshop was where it was at, for him. Computers were electrons jumping around, were an ether, were some undefined space

And keys and hardware...

But I was saying, before his computer crashes, J replies to one of the spams. Dear Esme,

Dear Esme,

I miss you (and he pauses here a long time, until the blinking cursor blurs and he looks away and there are spots in his eyes)

(and he really doesn't know what else to say. That he loves her? That he remembers her? That he will always? Or that hey, asshole, stop hacking my dead friends account! I know this is bullshit spam. I know I shouldn't open it, and you are toxic, and you are in no way Esme. Not even close.)

He deletes it all and starts over.

Dear Esme,

It has been a long time, and I have been really busy, but I'm excited to tell you about my new car and the new addition to the workshop, more importantly. We moved into that big space down on 25th street, over by where the theater used to be? There is great lighting and we are starting to get a lot of publicity now...

Later J gets a new email, but it was time anyway (business expanding, work requests). He never did see whether Esme responded to his response. Is glad that at least JBird will always buy her weight-loss products.

A question for the pillow and falling asleep: how infinite is cyberspace?

J thinks, he's halfway dreaming,

It's like the ocean recycling, always

Lapping at the beach