"I hate you," I said.
The interstices of pixels were shining through me like a xenon strobe.
"Tonight, another billion-dollar bank merger to report,"
The news said in reply.
Each word was wrong but not untrue.

Outside, a metallic silver firebird devoured a night pedestrian.
It was ravenous, its nostrils were flared like a member of the studio audience on Jerry Springer.
I looked over my shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse but you were gone.
The phosphor blue light from the television filled the air with sexual tension well into the night.