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One evening before bed, I get up all my strength and kick my phone out of the bedroom.

Night, night, I tell my phone, as I place her on a table in the next room. I’m right here if you need me. You’re OK. I love you. You’ll be fine. Sweet dreams. Night, night.

I tiptoe out of the room and get into bed. That wasn't so hard.

But once I am settled, I realize I need to check on her. To be sure. I get out of bed and go back into the next room to see if she is OK. And there she is, right where I left her on the desk, silently recharging. I pick her up, check a few things - email, weather app, newsfeed - and then, gingerly, I put her back down. I have roused her, but she stays quiet and just looks up at me. I think she has a faint smile on her face.

Night night. I love you. You’re OK.

I tiptoe out of the room again, get back into bed and stare at the ceiling. The ceiling is gray and moonlight seeps under the window shade in a line of white light.


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