Social Butterfly

By A. Howitt

I cleared pizza boxes and take-out bags from the sofa so I could sit, peeled off my socks, and tossed them on the floor, too. I hadn’t brushed my teeth, answered Mom’s texts, or checked the bank messages I’d been ignoring for days.

Just a quick scroll, I told myself, lifting my phone, leaning back in the dim light that filtered through cheap apartment shades. Just to quiet the noise in my brain.

I was just clearing alerts—ones I’d let pile up like dishes in the sink. The app opened by accident.

I was going to close it.

My thumb paused.

I wanted to hear his voice.

An old video clip came up first. My comment from three weeks ago was still there. No likes. No responses. Just proof I’d tried to be seen.

A new alert:

🦋 “Welcome back, Butterfly.”

LIVE NOW: Dorian Gray—Stream #3414

“You don’t have to be born beautiful to become your best self.”

I tapped.

The stream opened. Dorian smiled to the camera, eyes half-lidded and blonde hair waving like there was a breeze inside his postmodern living room.

“I know it’s been a heavy week.”

I hadn’t showered. Hadn’t changed out of my pajamas. It was three p.m. on a Tuesday, but suddenly, I was sitting up straighter and raking fingers through hair still flattened from sleeping late.

Dorian paused. Every blink was slow. Perfect. Timed. “I’m so glad you made it here, butterfly. Wow, thirty-four thousand viewers! Hello, Macy. Hello, Dorian’s Girl. Thanks, Friend of D. Gray. I love you, too!”

I started typing “I love you,” but deleted it. Too obvious. I wanted to stand out. What would I want him to read?

The feed was already blowing up.

[devoted.to.dorian]: ugly crying again omg

[glowg1rl]: i need this so bad today

[lovecrystal]: 🦋so pretty🦋

“You don’t have to fix everything all at once,” Dorian continued. “Let’s just let one thing go today. One negative thought. One feeling that no longer serves your glow.”

He smiled, soft and slow, face in perfect symmetry. His blue eyes held steady on the camera. “This space is for you to be who you are. No noise. Just truth.”

Music swelled—gentle synth—and he leaned forward, elbows on knees. The frame smoothed subtly at the edges, like a soft-focus lens.

[neon.shark]: I’M GONNA SCREAM!!!

[truugloow]: I love you I love you 💛💛💛💛💛

[DoriansGrrl]: HE SAID MY NAME!

I typed. Hit enter.

[jayce.glowbutterfly]: missed you D🦋

My message disappeared into the swarm. I waited a second. Then two. I knew he didn’t read the live chat, but when he tilted his head…

“Yeah, I see you, butterfly,” he said. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Just too much hate in this world, and not enough love.”

My eyes burned.

The comments exploded again, but I couldn’t read the messages flying by. My vision blurred. Was I crying?

“If you want to show up as your best self, there’s nothing wrong with that. Today, I’m dropping an exclusive for you. Butterfly Protocol is offering a trial price of twenty dollars for new subscribers.” He sipped from a frosted tumbler. “For a limited time, all my subscribers can try the exclusive Angel Filter for free.”

The heart counter jumped. 35,435 viewers.

A little banner popped up—🦋 Activate Angel Filter Now—Trial Ends in 3h 46m 🦋

My finger hovered. I knew I’d need to register a credit card to trial the filter. I never remembered to cancel the auto-renewals. I tapped anyway and started entering my information.

“Okay, let’s do a mood check.” He leaned closer, so close his pores would have been visible if the filter hadn’t erased them. “How are you feeling?”

I started typing “hopeless” but my finger paused. Then, I deleted my message. Canceled the credit card transaction. I wanted to be seen, not sold to.

[hopeless.flirt.dani]: you are the only one who understands me

[redpanda]: Thank you, D 💛

[forever.young]: unlocked 🦋EXCLUSIVE ANGEL FILTER🦋

[melody.mayhem]: feeling seen

I pushed the pizza boxes farther away. The smell of old pepperoni and cheese turned my stomach. Maybe I was hungry. Or still tired.

The screen stuttered. I blamed my Wi-Fi.

[tiffani.glover12]: You’re a Good Man!

[prettyboy2008]: Thank you, D

[aussieglow]: no more ai

[guitar.man98]: feeling rejected

“You are not your past.” The screen jumped again. Longer, this time. Not a stutter, but a full stop. Dorian froze. His hair, his features. But the audio kept playing—“You are not your pain and fear.”

The color faded from the background first. The screen darkened while Dorian’s closeup flickered. And then he was gone.

The frame widened, showing a different room. No postmodern glamor, no fake sunset glow. Just a dull gray room, dark and grainy. And a body slumped in a highbacked office chair.

I didn’t tap anything, just watched, curious.

His head listed to one side, jaw hanging open, eyes sunken and clouded.

The audio kept playing—“You don’t have to be born beautiful to become it”—but the screen was frozen on the man’s blank stare. His cracked lips, the gums pulled back from his yellowed teeth. Behind him, stacks of boxes and plastic garbage bags clustered around the desk.

[winter.fox]: what’s going on

[lookatmedee]: ai dumbies

I didn’t look away. Even when the real butterfly landed on his hollow cheek. Even when I realized he couldn’t see it.

The screen blinked bright again, the glow returning like nothing had happened.

“Hey, butterfly 💛 Just a tech hiccup.”

[momma.becca]: someone call 911

[2dorian2me]: OMG what is going on!!

The heart counter jumped again. 37,217 viewers.

Dorian smiled his perfect bone structure smile and lifted the tumbler, taking a sip. “Don’t go quiet on me now, butterfly. I still see you.”

I closed the app and dropped my phone.

The apartment was quiet, except for the buzz of the fridge and the cars outside. I stood and picked up my socks. Then the pizza boxes.

I opened the shades to let in some light.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Anita Howitt took riding lessons on an ornery thoroughbred that bucked and complained until he got tired and then just did the work. After several attempts to revise her novels she experiences similar tantrums when sitting down to her desk. Stickers, dry-erase markers, coloring books, and inspirational magnets are part of her ongoing therapy. She lives in the woods with a supportive husband, entitled children, and a five month old rescue puppy named Fenris.

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