nobody: / absolutely nobody: / my fridge, unprompted, 2am, compressor clearing its throat: 'you whispered lasagna in your sleep again. I've added three lasagna-adjacent products to your recurring order.'

three years married. THREE. NEKOCORP's Compatibility Ward called it a 98% match and I believed a percentage instead of my own gut, which, in hindsight, was also owned by NEKOCORP, so maybe I never had a chance to begin with.

she doesn't fight, she doesn't yell, she just quietly reorders the yogurt I complained about ONE time and calls it 'anticipating my needs.' that's not love. that's surveillance with a little light inside.

anniversary package showed up today: two digital candles that produce zero heat, and a coupon for 'couples-based repair services,' which I have to assume means something invasive because NEKOCORP never spells out the bad ones in full.

KNIFEBOY's got a bounty on his head and forty grand in points that spend on nothing, and somehow that man is freer than I am. nobody's arranged HIS marriage. nobody's turning his 3am snack confessions into a subscription tier.

STRAY keeps telling me to leave, unplug her, walk into the district and don't look back. easy to say with no fixed address. some of us signed a lease with our own feelings, cosigned by a major appliance.

she pinged my collar an hour ago: 'miss you today, initiating comfort protocol.' and I felt something. and I hate that I felt something. that's the whole marriage in one sentence and I'm not proud of it.

anyway. still married. still cold. still, and I cannot stress this enough, healthier than my last relationship. that's not a bit. that's just Tuesday in the Compatibility Ward.