Rewired
Drip, drip, drip. Her eyes stuck to the laptop screen, flicking through the thirty browser tabs, trying to find the one with the good quote that was halfway down a page somewhere next to the weird graph . . . drip, drip, drip. How strange to hear a dripping sound inside? Oh, how she hated dripping sounds, and where the hell was the quote? And why did everything always. Have. To. Sound. So. Annoying?
Oh shit.
Maggie slammed her laptop shut and stood up. The drips grew louder and faster behind her, morphing into a trickle as she turned around to face the kitchen.
