She slammed her fist down on the desk next to the keyboard, exclaiming; "This damn game!" She refresed the page with her hands hovering above the space bar. The page loaded up and her fingers leapt into action, frequently tapping the space bar.
Her young son watched from the corner of the room, slightly afraid of his mothers cussing and keyboard-bashing. His old teddy bear was slung over his shoulder and he clutched a little tighter as she cussed again. He sat down on the cold, hard floor, thinking of better times, where his mother would envelop him in hugs.