Momento Mori

When I return from my morning errands, the computer is closed on the floor, where I left it, but the apple logo is lit, and the machine is making this horrid whirring sound. When I open it up, the screen shows the terrifying visage of a folder, blinking, with an ominous question mark at the center.

I know something is wrong with the object through which I interact with the majority of my life, but I can't deal with it right now. I somehow manage to forget, and yet the feeling is always there, a vague sense of unease, a darkness lurking just on the edge of vision, darkening the day, leaving even the most pleasant interactions with a residue of doom.