tension
there was far too much tension

She was sitting in front of the computer, muttering to herself. Her chin was resting on her knees, her fingers covered the mouse.
The cruiser was agitated.
It would wander to the blue messanger sign, clicking on it to show all the people, who, like her, had nothing better to do that night.

How could there be so much tension between a computer and her?
It was only a fucking program.

She was waiting.
She couldn't help herself.
She was addicted, a bit, to their midnight talks that didn't really add up to anything.
She was addicted, a bit, to the tension.
It was her game they were playing, or was it his?
It didn't matter now.

She hated being addicted to anything.