Living Alone by H. Donald Cabinet

Contorting my creaking bones into an antenna, I poach Wi-Fi signals from a retirement complex. Just to check e-mail, blogs, and the assorted web ephemera to which I subscribe. I am less than comfortable. The snapping sound of leather soles on tile as the executive director rounds a corner. He peaks into my cube. Each surprised, he asks what I am doing and I make a taciturn case for wireless, non-intranet internet at the office.