I was walking home the other day, it was 10:47 and pouring. Unbeknownst to me my phone had taken a few interesting decisions.
Between 10:45 to 10:47 I received several calls from an Uber driver it had ordered. I never noticed and the Uber guy cancelled. For all our troubles Uber had charged us 47 rupees. Naturally I was quite annoyed, and while running water for a bath I noticed there were several other apps that had been opened while I thought my phone was safe in my pocket.
Mostly nonsense, of course, it had opened a few notes. The first was the Uber guys number, the URL for an ad. It had chosen a background- leaves and a green tone, some superfluous feature I never even knew it had. The second, bare note, was what was interesting though. In that note between the “BBBBbbbbgggF”, the “wheeeeeeeeeeenghdf” and other clear indications of falling asleep at the screen, there’s someone pouring their heart out.
It takes a bit of deciphering but between all the button mashing, there’s a letter. It’s like a page from a diary, a long conversation between friends something you wouldn’t forget. Yet I’ve not read that note before, a story about a senior and dealing with friends, a log from someone I don’t know on my phones. There’s no sharing feature, no names and no trace beyond a 10:47 time stamp. Just someone’s deepest, darkest thoughts they wouldn’t even share with a journal, brought to my phone between rain and a walk.