The following is meant to be set after Penny chan's depression phase. It's placed a bit awkwardly in the story since it's also right before October, which means the episodes become more anthology horror stories, and I couldn't name a more ill-fitting place to put a computer in love. But this is still crucial for the story (also the irony that this kicks off Penny chan's love interests slowly shifting colour motifs from red to yellow, like a certain other person...don't tell her).
I mean it's already so ironic for such a devilish computer to be a holy saint in the eye of an angel.
Long.
Too long.
The room looked emasciated, dust carpeted the floor. Despite it's typical hectic feel the apartment felt so...hollow. There wasn't chaotic sign of a heartbreak, no broken frames, mounds of useless crap to fill a space in her chest. She just...stopped, dragged herself back to her apartment with a vague smile and went to sleep, for an entire. Fucking. Month. Her eyes dragged from the floor to the desk, straining to focus on her computer. God she'd just abandoned him huh? Struggling to sit up, she could not ignore the notable dip in her stature.
DEAR [valued customer],
YOUR [NO.1 Best rated Salesman 1997] WANTS TO SEND YOU [moist delicious cookies] [in stock today!].
She paused, staring at the message, before consulting the rest of her...inbox, a few random messages from the Bobs freaking out on varying degrees (Christ she owed Howard a hug), but aside from that...nothing. Did...did he continue to clean out her inbox while she was moping?! Moving to the bin she was met with a meriad of junk mail and some more messages from him. Offerings of free getaway holidays, outings and gift offers.
Ohhh that didn't sit well in her chest, she fought back the new potential guilt and began typing.
Dear Spamton,
STILL KICKING!! >:3, that fucker has nothing on me!
ALso you kept my emails clean this entire time?! You're getting an upgrade. Pick yer poison.
Dragging her feet, she wandered the hallway vaguely, she always thought she'd go down like a She'd always thought she would have gone down her mothers route of depression.
Screw this, like hell she was lingering in a dirty house.
"So you can't help". "Know a guy", "who knows a guy?". The flick in his gaze said enough, "look, I know this is like tryna revive a corpse down to the outfit it was buried in, but we both know my sister". He paused, "look I got some people who know a bit 'bout this kinda model. Maybe you can...I dunno Frankenstein it back together", "uh-huh...". She paused, "so...do you have the addresses or...?". "I'll email them to you later".
There was a good probablitlity it was the exicitment of a new computer, but she slowly noticed her focus shifting, the computers and random tech suddenly catching her eye. She apologised to the tv, the tv!
Her fingers padded along the sides of the monitor silently. it'd surprisingly did all right in the blast, a little dirty from the ash but the screen. "So...how do we go about this?", "well". The digital mask lowered slightly. "The best method would to
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"Well I think you sound nice!", "eh. Well most don't really clock it from my...". She gestured vaguely at her, well, everything. "Your what?". She paused, hand waving over his screen lightly. He...couldn't see her,
Th