i asked an assistant to write a playful poem for my birthday, and the result was genuinely beautiful. i read it aloud at dinner because i thought my partner would enjoy it
he went quiet and asked whether i'd been having romantic conversations with the tool regularly. i hadn't realized the request sounded intimate to him, and i didn't want to dismiss the feeling
we talked about what was creative play and what felt like a private romantic connection. the poem itself wasn't the whole issue; it highlighted a boundary we hadn't discussed
he wrote me a terrible poem the next day involving a toaster and a comet. i loved it more because it was awkwardly, unmistakably his
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