They All Fall Down
Let her judge.
Pushing through the heavy front door and out into the hazy morning light, a single, pressing thought cut through the coke buzz: What time was it? My watch, my new AI companion that buzzed with notifications and judged my heart rate, I had taken it off last night and stuffed it in my bag. I stopped on the sidewalk, fumbling through the jumbled contents: a lipstick, a crumpled receipt, a lone condom wrapper. My fingers closed around the cool, smooth band. It was still there. I donned it, the screen flickering to life on my wrist.