I've decided I like the word smooshed. That's what happened to my phone by the way. Denis and I went for a walk at the lake and I was wearing a hoodie. As I went to get in the car it slipped out but I didn't notice.

It sat all alone during the night, receiving txts never to be read and feeling the cool, constant patter of raindrops on its sleek, silver casing. Then sometime in the morning, I think, when the stream of cars picked back up again it was smooshed by some unfeeling hulk of rubber. Woe are the pieces of plastic and metal that used to be my phone. Not even duct tape will fix this pickle.

Alas, the mourning must come to an end and life will go on. For as sturdy and dutiful as my phone was I know that he'd want us to move on to newer, better technology. And so we shall. Forge ahead into a new frontier and never forget the sacrifice that one phone made for the happiness of one irresponsible teen.

In semi-loving memory of my phone - no matter how many times I dropped you, from what height and where you landed, faithful through it all till the last fatal crushing tire.

Maria