Favorites Chrome Info

Arthur’s fingers moved on autopilot. Click the blue compass star, type "M," and hit enter. The familiar teal and white page loaded, listing the daily specials of Mario’s Pizzeria.

His heart hammered. One click, and her digital ghost would vanish. No more Portland chairs. No more moss. No more silent waves. favorites chrome

It had been fourteen months since Gina left. Arthur’s fingers moved on autopilot

Tonight, however, the chrome of his browser felt colder. The bookmarks bar, usually a reassuring row of familiar icons, looked like a graveyard. He hovered over the “G” folder. The little downward arrow blinked, teasing him. Are you sure?

He didn’t click it.

A small pop-up asked, Are you sure?