My keyboard is broken. I spilled apple-cinnamon tea all over my desk and keyboard. Now I’m click-typing with an on-screen keyboard. Each letter is so deliberate and laborious.

Moving in with my girlfriend next week. Cleaning out things and finding many traces of the old one. She’s been mostly reduced to a taped up shoebox, but nine years has a way of being indelible. Going through my desk’s filing cabinet meant finding documents that I would have a hard time explaining to my new partner. Memories can turn so bittersweet.

While walking to work today in the gray, light rain, I thought about how much I miss writing in a place where another human might read my words and share in a small experience that’s unique to me. I miss this because solitary writing is so lonely.