Conversations With My Watch

I have one of those smart watches. It is connected to my smart phone and does all kinds of things. Both my watch and my phone are smarter than I am. So be it. But sometimes I wonder just how this is supposed to work.

Conversation 1: I’m sewing along, making a tote bag or something. While working on the handles, I sew a length of fabric into a tube and need to turn it right side out. I have most of it turned, but flick my wrist (the one wearing the watch) to get the last little bit turned out.

I hear a noise. It sounds really different. Is it the television? I mute the TV. The noise continues.

It is my sewing machine? I lean forward, my ear to the body of the machine. No, it’s not from there.

It’s my watch, trying to get my attention.

Watch: Did you fall?

Me: No, I didn’t fall.

Watch: Are you sure? Because if you fell, I can send help.

Me: No, I didn’t fall. I’m sitting down.

Watch: You’re okay, then? You don’t need me to call anyone?

Me: No, I’m fine.

Watch: Okay. Take care.

Well, that was interesting. And life goes on.


Conversation 2: I’m out walking around the yard, not really fast, but a bit speedier than a mosey. Somehow I manage to insert my foot under a length of grass that has rooted itself in two separate places. It asserts its dominance, barring my foot’s passage, causing me to lose my balance, and I fall.

Nothing happens. I look at my watch.

Me: Hey, Watch, I fell.

Watch: No, you didn’t.

Me: Did so.

Watch: Did not.

Me: But I fell! I hurt my hands and knees!

Watch: Oh, knock it off.

Me: I think I’m going to cry. [Sniffles]

Watch: Don’t be such a big baby.

Me: I thought you cared about me.

Watch: Oh, boo-hoo. Now, get back up and start walking again. We’re wasting time here.

Me: Ah-ha! So you know I fell!

Watch: Do you want me to end this activity session or not?

Me: No, let’s go.

Watch: [Scrolls a “rolled eyes” emoji across the watch screen.]

Me: I saw that.

Watch (whispering): Slacker!

Smart watch, indeed. More like smart aleck watch.

Suffering: Fiction Friday

Story #06 for the Story A Day Challenge May 2016 and doubling up, as well, for the Friday Fictioneer Challenge.

Photo copyright Roger Bultot

Photo copyright Roger Bultot


The room was small and dark. The radiator clinked and clanked without emitting much heat.

“Good,” Sean thought, unpacking. (His real name was John but he thought it too prosaic. Easier to brood as Sean.) He was A Writer and was here To Work.

“I will suffer for my art, just like the great 19th century writers.” (His suffering was temporary and self-imposed. His parents were quite wealthy.) “When everything is perfect, I will start writing.”

Night fell. He’d never been anywhere so quiet, so secluded.

Sean looked at his phone. “I’m lonely. Maybe just a couple of phone calls …”

To read other Friday Fictioneer stories based on this photo, select the smiley blue frog.