Fake Plastic People

Nestled in a ground-tied cloud is my snow laden house. Squirrels and deer and birds have looked in the window at me, plaintively. The feeders have gone empty. But I sit in front of the computer, jaw slack.

The cat has nudged my ankles and looked at me adoringly, yet still my eyes are glued to the screen.

I hear tell of a coup and shootings and more economic woe but I am briefly sheltered by unreality.

My brother has gotten me Sims 2 for my MacBook and damned if those stiff limbed faux people aren't fun to wreck havoc with.