She stared at the inbox. Thirty-seven new messages, most of which were store newsletters and new sales offers.
This is what happens when you begin dreading email and stop checking.
Reluctant, she began highlighting each message, trashing each one as she went. Cosmetics; shoes; new shipment of clothes – she didn’t need these emails. In a fit of temper, she’d signed up for dozens of e-letters and notices, with the hopes that there would be enough emails to bury certain others. It’d worked too, for a while.
Once, she’d been religious about checking email. Morning and night, emails were promptly read and dealt with as necessary. That had changed when she’d run into him again, the first time in eight years, and he’d tried to call her that night. When that hadn’t worked out, he’d emailed. Granted, he wasn’t a stalker, but they’d not parted on good terms and she wanted to leave the past where it belonged. It seemed he didn’t think the same way.
The second email had weakened her resistance and she’d read it. As she’d thought, he wanted to get back into contact and he continued to send sporadic emails, the sort that told brief anecdotes and day-to-day stories. She never wrote back, but she never deleted either.
On a whim, she clicked reply.