A Better Life

A Better Life

The hum of my dated laptop

drowns out the chatter of my roommates

in the living room. My face glows with the

light from the screen, my bedroom still.

I read the name on the screen.

Desmond Makoma. Desmond Makoma.

 

“Desmond Makoma likes a picture you

were tagged in.”

 

Click.

His timeline appears, his face

in the left hand corner. He stands

in a grey suit, legs apart, hands clasped together

below his waist, like a night club bouncer.

 

His face is bigger than it was four years ago.

There are more lines now, on his

forehead, around his mouth.

He must have switched to contacts.

Pastor Desmond Makoma. Cousin Desmond.

Traitor.

 

I close my eyes, remembering years of anti-depressants,

counseling, and bloody razors. My fingers trace

the scar on my left arm, my old life.

I open my eyes. Click.

“Desmond Makoma is now blocked from

this page.” This life is better.