Fiction
The Never-Ending Adolescence
Unrequited lust, unfulfilled potential, and Instagram stories
I’d been unemployed in Naples, Florida since early January, and there was no prospect of my prospects improving.
Summer was lurking. My sweat glands gushed with anticipation. I fantasized about fleeing to anywhere where humidity, reptiles, and retirees weren’t the official state plagues. But landing an easy escape requires a pillow of cash or credit. I had neither, and I did not expect to ever have either ever again, no matter how many times I repeated the only mantra my mom ever taught me: Money comes to me easily and often.
Then — as she had so many times when I was a kid — Rochelle Gevirtz intruded.
I didn’t know she was on Twitter. Actually, I’d forgotten I was on Twitter. I’d signed up years ago for a video contest that demanded begging for clicks online. My one post shared the contest link, now dead. RIP. I am sure I was the only human who ever noticed that pathetic tweet — until it became the pore that let Rochelle back into my life.
The notification in my email inbox showed me a mention from @RoGe_virtz. I had to decide if this was worth retrieving my Twitter password. The process, which I’d have to learn as I did it, would take most of the five…
