Across The Zoom Miles, by Emily Owen

 

I checked the faces on the screen three times, four times…

I could no longer deny it.

Emily was in the Zoom call.

I’ve not seen her for ages, yet flashbacks made it seem as though I saw her yesterday:

- Copious amounts of chocolate (for her, not me).

- Bashing away in frustration at the keyboard (that mostly happened during editing).

- Desperation/Inspiration walks (again, her not me). Let it be known that I never left my post. I remained saved to her computer countless times. It did occur to me she should have saved herself to it, all those walks.

- An email from her publisher asking her to add another section to me. (She ate the chocolate, I put on weight.)

Mercifully, the flashbacks were interrupted by my owner, holding me up to her screen. 

I reminded myself to relax: even a chocolate-eating, keyboard-stabbing, desperation-walker can not jump through a Zoom screen. I was safe.

“On my first day at work, I saw this book. And that’s why I wanted to invite Emily to lead our workshop today.”

I waited for mentions of frustration, and desperation, and writer’s block, for surely those things are me.

“Let me tell you about this book, and why I like it…..”

No mention of my flashback material.

I thought back to my creation. The flashback material was very minimal to the whole.

Overall, I realised, I had really enjoyed being written. 

I had shared Emily’s quiet excitement as she entrusted her words to me. 

Remember the section about….?!  I wanted to ask her.

I looked at her, across the Zoom miles.

She would remember. 

I knew it.

My owner was still talking about me.

I still looked at Emily, so I saw her joy that someone was reading me.

I no longer wanted to deny that Emily was in the Zoom call.

She and I are a team.

We always will be, wherever I go.

Flashbacks. 

What flashbacks?