People See, People Do
the phone in her hand rocked as yards and yards of road went without her glance. her daughter, just old enough for the front seat, looked at the large advertisement at the entrance of a day care: “Do you love your children?” the daughter knew so. her mother told her everyday, but in the sign the children were phones. the mother’s dancing eyes lost their electronic glow when her daughter tapped her shoulder, asking: “Mommy, do you love me?” a restrained laugh spilled from her mother’s lips as her eyes returned back to the screen. “Yes.” a few miles she drove still distracted by the devil inside the glass, her daughter shouting: “Stop!” the four-way intersection glistened with protestors dressed as phones, carrying signs that read “you are alive. keep it that way.” others had left their cars to see the commotion. a booth was collecting donations for “no texting and driving signs” to be placed many places throughout the city. people painted pictures of landscapes, showing the beauty one would miss if they opted out of life with a glance towards a phone.