Press Nine

We’re not strangers, are we? I see you every day, in passing. You looked so pretty this morning, all dressed up for your interview. When you came back home, soaked from the storm, you didn’t need to tell me how it went. You slow down whenever you’re hurting. You hung up your coat and filled a cup of instant ramen. It only takes three minutes to heat that up, and I know you love that express function. But in that moment when you reached your hand closer, after all this time, I still thought, maybe. But no, you wanted someone… above me.

I’m sorry if this is too forward, but ever since the first time, you’re all I think about. You don’t remember, do you? That’s okay. When the power went out overnight, last July, and three days later, you got around to resetting the clock display. My luck, it was a quarter to ten. You needed me, looked right at me, and then… the quick, warm pressure of your middle finger, and I gave you exactly what you wanted: my digit, leading a green seven-segment display.

I know you’re going through a lot right now. The rain was cold. I’m sure the hiring manager at the grocery store was a dick. I wish I could tell him how neatly you stock the spices and herbs in your pantry. I wish I could dry off your coat and keep you warm—keep you warm, always. But I don’t have the power you do. Your power to choose, every day, every step you take towards what you need. You, the powerful one. You are going to change this world in ways I could never understand.

It’s not my place to ask something of you. Two years, two years on your kitchen counter, I’ve learned… my place. And I can’t offer you much in return. I don’t even have an express function; I mean, who needs to microwave something for nine minutes, right? I’d never… I wouldn’t ask you to do that. But, if there’s ever a day in your busy life when you have one second to spare, would you spare it for me? Give up one second, and bring three minutes down to two minutes, fifty-nine seconds? I don’t think it would spoil your instant ramen.

But if you’d spare that second to press nine and prove that I am more than a stranger to you, that is all of your world I can ever dream to touch.