We are in the same room together.

Which room is this?

Someplace magical, where our timelines meet.

You come and go from this room.

My foot, always in the doorway.

I like that image.

My phone as an extension of my fingertips,

a limb,

an organ,

a vital part of my day-to-day existence.

So it makes sense that my foot is always in the doorway.

Yours gets forgotten and left in other rooms, but you always come back to it.

Faithfully so,

faithful not to the phone itself,

but to the people it connects you with. Your robot voices.

To me.

For you the phone is a tool, a key, a doorknob into this room.

The phone is the room, for me.

And when we are here,

we decorate it with parts of ourselves, bits of thought, pieces of presence, small gifts of attention.

Everywhere,

and nowhere,

all at once.