Autumn
“Hey!” I smiled at my friend Skye’s face flashing on the screen and swiped to answer. I’d never seen the picture before. Her eyes were crossed and her tongue dangled out adorably.
“I’m starting to feel neglected,” she said. “You don’t call… You don’t write…”
I laughed. “When did you change your photo in my phone?”
“Last time I was over. If I remember correctly, you were ignoring me, busy on your laptop researching the origin of some song you’d heard on a commercial.”
“Ah…yes. ‘Magic’ by The Pilots. They’re from Scotland, you know.”
“Of course I know. You told me that and four hundred other facts you looked up after watching a ten-second commercial.”
A taxi on the street next to me blew its horn.
“Where are you?” Skye asked.
“On my way to meet Blake for dinner. I took an Ube
