Matt Wakes Up

And looks about him. As his eyes become accustomed to the new morning, he realises that he’s in bed. What is strange is that he’s not alone. Crowded.

He tries to get up but soon realises that, somehow, in the night, he has become a crude two-dimensional representation of himself. His face, flat and unrendered, his hair reduced to a couple of dozen pixels.


Oh no. He isn’t even a child’s hurried crayon sketch. He is on the Internet.

He begins to sob, but someone presses F5 to see if there are any new comments on today’s post and

Matt Wakes Up

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David Baillie is a freelance writer and artist. Born almost thirty years ago in Scotland, he now lives and works in the East End of London.

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