Sitting at the dining table idle. The door opens. Pause. Shuts. Coat rustles, socks rub against shoes. My dad walks in with a white rectangular box.

“Sultan! Guess what?” he asks excitedly.

I look at him to acknowledge his question.

“I got you an iPhone 5 instead of 4!”

I consider this. I consider him – his face lit up in excitement and anticipation of my reaction. I feel nothing.

“You like it, right?” he says as he hands me the box.

I take the box from him and shimmy it open to reveal the iPhone nestled in its packaging. As I lift it from its shell and examine the polished design, I think about how I should be grateful.

“Thank you, daddy,” I say because it is the right thing to say. But I still feel nothing. It takes a Herculean effort to force the corners of my mouth up.

Thoughts wander aimlessly through my mind. I think about how my dad is trying so hard to make me happy. I think about how disappointed my lack of reaction must be. I think about how if I felt any emotion, I would feel guilty for being unable to show him happiness. Guilty for not having accepted his gift with more grace and grandeur.

I let these thoughts sit in my mind for a while, then I let them drift away.

I brush my thumb over the plastic screen covering before slowly peeling it off. My reflection looks faded.

I feel nothing.
I feel nothing.
I feel nothing.

One thought on “iPhone” by sultan (@Sultan)

  1. The feeling of not being carried away. It is a nice piece from a son unconcerned about the world that many have lost or have not even seen. Get me the iphone

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