Harpo Marx

I miss my Sissy.

She doesn’t have a webcam, so she borrowed her roommate’s computer and we skyped.

“Ba deep ba deep ba deep…”

The skype siren – which quickens the heartbeat of any lonely human living in the 21^st century. There she was, my Sissy – as flamboyant and gorgeous and free as a hot pink snowflake. But when she laughed or said something, I heard nothing. Something on her end was funky and she could see and hear me but I couldn’t hear her. So we commenced to converse with my words and her typing.

It was frustrating at first cause I wanted to chat with Sissy not Harpo Marx, but as the minutes ticked by it morphed into a pretty memorable conversation. I could read all of her nonverbal Sissy-isms but couldn’t hear anything. Even though I couldn’t hear her laugh through the speakers, I could hear its joy resound in my brain.

米佳