The unlocked phone lays innocently on the bed. Pandora glances sharply towards the glow and pounces. She fumbles with the phone in her hands, scanning through the vast variety of apps. Her eyes lock on the gallery. She hastily opens the app and instantly flicks through the albums. ‘Screenshots’. She fixes her gaze onto this album.
She tears up in anger as she swipes through the images, screenshots of past conversations with other women haunt her thoughts and, without thinking, she smashes the phone against the bedroom wall and storms out.
She crashes into her boyfriend on her march, who grabs her arm quickly. She pulls him into the bedroom and shows him what remains of the phone. Accusations hurl through the air until he can get a word in edgeways. He opens his mouth to speak.
“That’s my brother’s!”