Around 7am, Brian, an acquaintance of mine instant messaged me.
He was in London and things were not good.
He had been mugged.
The mugger took all their money and credit cards.
His wife had been hurt.
I bought it with caution.
"oh no - that's horrendous" I typed.
He said his head was not in a good place.
I've met Brian twice.
He lives in Los Angeles.
Why was he instant messaging me?
Why was he instant messaging?
Why was I instant messaging?
"thank god we have our life and passport" he typed.
Brian's syntax was not in a good place either.
It turns out Brian needed money.
I woke up Lauren.
"Are Brian and Karen in London?"
She was groggy.
"Babe, their computer got hacked."
I went back to mine.
"are you still there?" he had typed.
"Brian is offline," it ultimately said.
A few minutes later I got an email from Brian.
The subject was "My Plight!!!"
Good thing I am broke.
Otherwise I would have blindly given this strange human all of my money.
Who are these people?
What do they look like?
How do they spend their non-hacking hours?
Are they happy?
Are they just trying to make a living, like the rest of us?
How successful are they?
Are they hiring?
I placed two bankers boxes into a tiny, windowless office.
A large woman with a metal hairdoo sat miserably in a swivel chair.
On the floor in a black plastic bag, two gold frames leaned against the wall.
"It looks like you haven't finished decorating," I tried.
"Oh, that's all my X-Files crap I need to sell."
I laughed a little, enough to make it seem like it was with her.
"Do you know anyone that wants a David Duchovny basketball?"
I laughed a little more.
"Sorry, I'm selling things, too."
Why should I have to sell my stuff?
Again.
Maybe I'll instant message a few of my old Facebook acquaintances.
See how they're doing.
i've been better
my head is in a bad place right now
thank god i have my life and internet
Verdict: Win
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