My human is holding the glowing rectangle again and staring so hard! So hard! I love when it stares hard. It smells nervous, the salty smell, the smell it makes before a car ride, and I LOVE car rides, so this is probably a car ride!
There is a friend inside the rectangle. I know because my human keeps saying the friend's name at the ceiling. "Come ON, Marcus." Marcus! I love Marcus. I have never met Marcus. Marcus is my best friend.
My human types the little words. Then the words go away. Then my human waits. Then it puts the rectangle face down like it is putting a bad thing to bed. Then it PICKS IT UP AGAIN to check! This is the best game! We have played it for one hundred hours. Or maybe two minutes. Time is the biggest mystery and I have decided not to worry about it.
Marcus is not typing back. My human's shoulders go down, down, low, like when the vacuum wins.
Oh no. Oh no, my human is sad.
I have the SOLUTION. I have the ball. I have had the ball this whole time, in my mouth, waiting, being patient, which is the hardest thing I do. I put the ball on my human's knee. The rectangle does not have a ball. Marcus does not have a ball. I HAVE THE BALL.
My human is laughing now! The salty smell is going away! It rubbed my ears the good way and said I'm a good boy and put the rectangle in its pocket where it belongs.
Marcus can wait. I am here. I am always, always here.
And it is dinner time, which is the best time, which is now.