The Twitter Bride

He rolled over to his Twitter bride and gave her a peck on the cheek. She lay there as if dead, eyes open, blankly fixing the ceiling. Rising on one elbow, he pulled back the covers to inspect her. No respiration. No activity. A broken doll.

For three days she remained that way. Immobile. Agape. Quiescent.

On the morning of the fourth day, on awakening, he heard a rustling beside him. His Twitter bride was online again, active. He clicked her good morning and she responded, turning her head to thank him for the follow.