She slammed her front door shut and looked across her apartment. Lavender wafted through the air while purple hued lights pulsed softly, and a favorite song played faintly from her bedroom. Briefly, she flushed with rage, and resented her smart assistant for presumptuously deploying these pre-programmed nudges to improve her mood. The anger faded quickly, how could she be mad when she was the one who decided to sync her fitness tracker data to her digital assistant. She hurled her phone at the couch and let the tracker slide from her wrist and drop to the floor. Her phone bounced off the back and made the softest thud against the leather cushion. She plodded to the couch and fell into the space next to her phone. She told herself that in sadness existed struggle and through struggle would come growth. She uttered a voice command to stop the music and let the silence sprawl through the house as she stretched her body along the couch and gave the ceiling an empty stare. She wasn’t trying to glorify her sadness, but she wanted to wallow, and for just once, instead of relying on a proprietary thermostat, it would be nice if a real, in the flesh person made efforts to improve her day.
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