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New Phone, Day Five

The melancholy of routine has set in. I sit on the couch, mustard stains on my shirt and an itch on my belly. She sits next to me, cold, indifferent. I play with her for a moment, but then I grow distracted by the television in front of me. When I turn back, her face is blank and she is most certainly turned off.

Perhaps it’s best to leave my phone as she is for the night…

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