Turning Around

Looking up from my bed I hear the soft vibrations of my phone. Listening in, I hear the quiet ringtone emit from the piece of technology that rests on my desk. Sitting up I reach out, and my fingers barely graze the edge. I lean forward and pull the tiny object connected to it, the charm. My arm feels the weight as the cellular slides over. Content, I lie back down holding the actual handset. Reaching a finger upward I push down the little lock screen button. Then using my thumb to drag the screen, I open up the new message. Reading over the small font I smile, quite amused. I press the blank box to type a reply, pressing the little touchscreen keys as I feel my arms tire. Satisfied with my input, the sent button is hit and the light goes dim. My eyes close, tired but content as my digits enclose my exterior heart in a tight fist.