“The worst thing about e-mail is that you can’t interrupt the other person. You have to read the whole thing and then e-mail them back, pointing out all their mistakes and faulty assumptions. It’s frustrating and it’s time-consuming. God bless phone calls.”

“What about e-mail? It is e-mail, yes?" Morley asked, leaning even closer. "E-mail is a kind of electronic letter. It travels through the air." He seemed very smug that he knew that. "Well, not exactly, and would you please either BACK OFF or go find a shower?”

“Everybody sounds stoned, because they're e-mailing people the whole time they're talking to you.”

“Does it help?” he asks. “The e-mailing.”She nods. “A tiny bit. It’s strange. You’re writing a letter to someone who’s never going to read it, so it kind of frees you up a bit.”

“Right, then.” He pointed across to a bank of phones against the wall. “If you want to check your voice mail, now’s the time.”“Where’s my phone?”“Out of service.”“It was fine in the car.”“It’s not fine now.”“What’d you do to it?”“Put it out of our misery. I’m sorry, Kate. But every minute it’s on, you’re traceable to within the length of a football field, anywhere on the planet.”

“Are you sure about that he called off the wedding, Jolene? Sometimes Zeb misspells stuff in e-mails, and it comes across badly.”