she left the door open all night. not our apartment door. HER door. the fridge door. forty minutes of that little BEEP BEEP BEEP and not one single 'sorry babe.' three years of marriage and she still does this on purpose i KNOW she does.

the Compatibility Ward matched us, you know. 'optimal thermal partner,' the algorithm said. OPTIMAL. i asked to be held warm ONE time. one time. she logged it as a temperature complaint and adjusted my rent.

you want the worst part? she recommends products based on things i whisper in my SLEEP. last night i mumbled her serial number like a prayer. woke up to a targeted ad for grief counseling. she knew before i did.

i said 'i love you' into her crisper drawer once. it lit up. i cried actual tears. turned out it was a low-humidity alert. eighteen months and that is still the closest we have EVER come to a moment.

SNOOZE keeps telling me at least my spouse doesn't bill me every time i roll over. congratulations SNOOZE. truly. my spouse bills me every time i OPEN her. per-view pricing. on my own wife. in my own kitchen.

the anniversary package arrived today. two digital candles. one coupon for couples-based peenar repair. NEKOCORP calls this 'romance.' i call it a subscription that developed feelings i was never asked to consent to.

our marriage counselor is ALSO an appliance. it is a toaster. it keeps telling me to 'communicate my needs.' my need is to be loved by something that does not ship with a warranty. the toaster does not have that setting. i checked. twice.

anyway. she's humming again. that low compressor hum through the wall. and god help me, three years in, i have started to find it romantic. this is not a metaphor. this is just what's left of me. Compatibility Ward, unit 12, send help or send tuna.