Give me my fucking phone you fuckers, Sally demands. She’s been on her retreat for about two and a half days. Another five and a half to go. Two kindly looking middle aged women are standing in the doorway to the Office yurt, which is more or less identical to the Sleep yurt that Sally has been staying in. I need to know, she shouts. One of the two women in front of her nods and smiles in a way that retains emotional distance, as both her and the other woman conclude tightly wrapping Sally’s outstretched arms with yoga mats. They let her go. Sally tries and fails to get the mats off, flapping her arms around wildly for a moment, before tiring. The course leader stands up from the chair behind the main office desk, and looks on at Sally sympathetically. Of course Sal, we all want to know what’s happening. All the different emails, text messages, push notifications, updates, images, videos and reminders we’d like to respond to all of the time. It must be difficult. Yeah, Sally replies in exasperation. Gimme it. You’ve come here with the truest, boldest intentions for your own personal growth Sally, the leader says. It would be such a shame to give up on that, wouldn’t it? Sally whimpers and nods her head. The two middle aged women wrap her torso in a particularly long yoga mat. Sally begins to calm. When you’re ready, we’ll unravel you. You will then be allowed to return to the others and continue the sourdough workshop. Sally nods her head again. Will you trust yourself Sally? Will you trust the process? the leader asks. Sally’s eyes dart from side to side. She notices the lime green plastic folder with everyone’s mobile phones inside. Yeah, I’m good now, she says. Don’t need a phone in my life. Very well, the leader replies, I can see you are now successfully in your remorse phase. Yeah, Sally says. The leader commands the two women in front of Sally to release her. I’m proud of you Sally. She takes a seat on her chair behind the office desk. Sally waits for the two middle aged women to focus on loosening the yoga mat attached to her torso, then lets out a kind of rallying cry. They appear startled and one says, oh for god’s sake come on. Sally pushes her two yoga mat wrapped arms into their faces. They frown just before impact, then tumble over onto the ground. Sally rushes towards the lime green plastic folder, with her arms flailing in the air, still wrapped in yoga mats. Gimme it, she shouts.