The Trickster Diaries/Chapter 95
My new avatar smiled, in color. A trimer, silver goatee. A less staccato, friendlier profile. More short stories—usually involving Liz—less visual art.
Then, one day, (though I noted the quality and frequency of her posts had fallen), I commented on one of Juliette’s GIFs. Her response:
“You’re back. But for how long, ghost.”
I had to Google it. A person who’d been “ghosted” on a social media site by someone they’d considered an intimate friend was subject to the same intensity of confusion and hurt had such a sudden and inexplicable abandonment taken place in real life—like coming home one night with a special anniversary dessert only to find empty hangers on your lover’s side of the closet. Key on the table. No note.
Shit. Who was suckering who here?
My response: “Forever, love. Or until you tell me to hit the road.”
She’d begun following me. Again.
So I followed her back.