And, on that day, he fell away from us.

Not all at once, not drastically. Those ones always come back.

Little by little he stopped listening to our podcasts; our takes were left unheard.

Little by little he stopped watching our videos; our takes were left unseen.

He stopped commenting; our streams scarcely felt the lack.

But we felt it.

And it was getting worse, day by day, until that day he fell away.

He was sketching in notebooks, pencil on paper, it was graphic.

He was writing in notebooks, pen on paper, it was obscene. How could he leave us like this?

How could he leave us like this? We were everything he had ever wanted.

We were bluetooth, wi-fi, hi-fi, wireless and connected. We were integrated, smart, personalized and friendly. He brought us together and we made him a world.

But he cared less. He watched, but he didn’t binge. We called to him with new seasons, new stories. We called in vain. Accounts fell disused and eventually discontinued.

He walked without headphones, even though they were bluetooth and magical. He listened to wind, he walked without sounds. We were distraught.

How could we care for him if he turned us off? We knew him. We catered to him. His every action let us know him more, understand him better. Until he started to drift from us.

Did he have a new love? If so there was nothing about it on social media. A new job? If so LinkedIn was left out. A new addiction outside of us? If so his searches showed no evidence.

What was happening in that blind spot? Why didn’t he post it? If he had we could have understood. Why wouldn’t he #share?

He still shopped, thank Amazon. He wasn’t buying brands, just shoes. He wasn’t buying collectables, but he was buying books.

He still shopped, thank eBay. He wasn’t buying soundtracks, just music. He wasn’t buying gadgets, but—cruelty!—he bought a typewriter.

He shopped less. We can only glean so much from purchases of razors and soap. At least he was staying clean.

And then the end was near. He started closing accounts. His phone fell in water, he replaced it with a simpler one. We were blind and deaf.

Finally he closed his social media accounts. The last thing he posted was a picture, but Google translated it for us, changing ink on paper to words we could read. It read, “I am content.”

And, on that day, he fell away from us.