
It was a lazy Saturday afternoon, and Mark was enjoying the perfect weather, lounging in a deck chair on his front lawn with a cold lemonade.
Across the street, his neighbor Chloe—a sweet, perpetually optimistic blonde who had recently upgraded to her first laptop—stepped out onto her porch to check the mailbox.
She opened the little metal door, peered inside, frowned, and walked back into her house.
Mark didn’t think much of it. But about five minutes later, Chloe emerged again. She walked down the driveway, opened the mailbox, checked inside, looked even more confused, and went back inside.
Mark raised an eyebrow but kept sipping his lemonade.
Another five minutes passed. Chloe appeared for the third time, marching down the driveway with determined, slightly frustrated steps. She yanked open the mailbox, stared into the empty metal box, threw her hands up in the air, and turned to head back inside.
By now, Mark was thoroughly entertained and genuinely curious. He called out across the street, “Hey Chloe! What are you doing?”
Chloe stopped, turned around, and looked at him with an expression of pure, unadulterated frustration. She pointed emphatically at her house.
“My computer,” she said, exasperated, “keeps telling me that I’ve got mail!”
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