Electronic Card

Majorie clicked on the link, and immediately the midi music started.

It was everything Marjorie hated about the digital world. Bland, meaningless forwards of something the individual sending had spent no time on, just flippantly adding an email address and assuming it was enough to be worthwhile. Music clanging in her ears, trying to convey a happy little tune, while in reality upsetting her reality.

Marjorie sighed, and watched.

On the screen, an animation played out. A friendly, heteronormative white man greeted a friendly, heteronormative white woman, and they played in the snow. A little white child joined them – clearly not a child of the man and the woman, because the child had brown hair and brown eyes, while the man and woman were good Aryan types. A dog joined them, and the wholesome circle was complete.

Marjorie waited for the picture to fade, and the text to appear.

“Happy holidays, friends,” was all it said. Not even a name to sign off with.

Marjorie sighed, deleted the e-card, and carried on with her day.


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