I reach out for it, touching its compact form ever so lightly to wake up my monitor. Yet I never really see the mouse. Even when reaching for it, my eye is already on the screen, drawn towards the imminent glow and heading immediately into the image that appears, pulling the rest of my body into the chair. Without realising it, my fingers have wrapped themselves around the plastic object. It quietly nestles inside the hand with its smooth contours politely echoing the soft interior of the palm. It starts to move, busily but inconspicuously darting back and forth across a small space on the table until I am done.
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