The Box of Broken Promises
4 min read · Anonymous · Premium
The drawer had become a graveyard of forgotten things. Stray receipts, expired coupons, a lone cufflink, and underneath it all, the old Fitbit. I’d bought it for Mark three Christmases ago, when he first started talking about getting in shape. He’d worn it for maybe a month, then claimed it was too bulky and tossed it aside. I remembered him saying he’d lost it during a move. But here it was, nestled in a tangle of rubber bands.
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