I don’t use the computer too often. There was a commercial that ended abruptly, and said you had to go online to see how it ended. That annoyed me, but it also made me curious. I got my nine-year-old son to show me how to use it.

“You know Dad’s password?” I did; it was our wedding day. He’d jokingly said that was the only way he’d remember. At least I’d thought it was a joke. I covered the number pad so Jake couldn’t see as I typed in 070897. “Now you type in the address from the ad.” I did so. “All done. Can I go ride my bike? I’ll wear the helmet.” I nodded, grateful that he wanted to do something so – old-fashioned and safe.

I was in the middle of watching the ad when a little box came up. “You have mail,” it said. That was kind of exciting. I clicked to read the new mail. It was an ad for penis enlargement. Well, he doesn’t need that, I thought, clicking it away.

But then I saw them: dozens of emails from Jessica. We don’t know a Jessica.

Miss you, the top one read. I clicked on it.