We sit in deathly silence.

Necks craned.

No one dares make a sound.

Hands swiping,

Up and down,

Left and right.

Our ears are always covered,

Or muffed,

Or occupied.

There is a ghostly feeling.

We’re here, but not really here.

We hide behind our blue screen lives.

Fingers fly, forming our social time.

What a lie.

Meanwhile...

Your world, your life, your soul passes you by.