It was our weekend at Dad’s apartment, and my brother and I watched TV from the scratchy, tattered couch. A faint ghost of cigarette smoke swirled into the living room, forming halos above our heads. In the silence between channels, a mist of noise sprayed from the next room.
A woman’s digital moan escaped the boxy computer speakers, followed by the sound of frantic mouse clicking. My brother looked at me.
“Damn emails,” hollered Dad. “Gave me a virus!”