The screen flickers to life, revealing the familiar face of a friend, but today, there's a spark in her eye, a flush in her cheeks that wasn't there before. She's alone in her room, the backdrop a mess of clothes and books, the kind of chaos that only exists in private spaces. She's dressed in a simple tank top and shorts, but the way she's sitting, legs slightly parted, back arched, it's clear she's not here for a catch-up. She leans in, her voice barely above a whisper, confessing her loneliness, her hunger, her desire for a connection, even if it's just a virtual one. Her hand begins to wander, tracing the curve of her breast, the heat between her legs, her eyes never leaving the screen, never leaving him.