My wife told me over a half-eaten sandwich, the way you'd mention rain on the way. Then she explained what the dinner parties had really been for.

I drove across town to surprise my husband with the lunch he forgot. His office was empty. His watch was still warm on the desk, pretending he'd never left.

Marcus was forty minutes across the city at his desk. So why did my phone say our oven was warming up at two in the afternoon?

I ordered a car to work like I do every weekday. The app opened, the profile picture loaded, and my whole marriage rearranged itself in three seconds.

He swore he never left the house that night. The little app on my phone remembered a different story, down to the minute.

For three years he swore they only ever "sat a meter apart." Then I opened the living-room camera on my phone and watched the distance between them disappear.