My dearest MacBook Pro,

I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.

It wasn’t meant to be like this. We’ve spent five beautiful years together and, honestly, they’ve been the best of my life. We’ve shared almost everything together, the highs and the lows. But… God, this is tough.

I was sitting down to write this morning – as I do most days – and, fuck, I don’t even know exactly how it happened. The time either side of the incident are burned in, but the actual event itself? A blur. One moment the coffee was in the cup, the next… Fuck me, I can’t get the image out of my head; that dark liquid splash and its spread over the keyboard.

I swear, I moved as quickly as I could. You were upside down in seconds. The coffee was dribbling out. I dabbed you with tissues, but I’ll never forget the sound you made. Some coffee must’ve gotten inside and the choking rattle you let out was heart-wrenching.

When will I stop thinking about it? Soon? Please? Please let it be soon.

The only thing on my mind is you at home, powered off, and upside down on a pillow. I should be with you – I really should – but I’m sitting at my desk. Moping. Feeling down. Willing you to be, well, okay.

Aww, the day we met! I was so excited. Peeling back the plastic and being hit with that gorgeous new product smell. My previous laptop was stolen in Rotterdam (RIP my dude, you’re still missed), so I needed a new machine. This meant borrowing a whole load of money. And you know what? It was worth it.

Hell, you’re five years old and run quicker than my new work computer. You’re magnificent. You were magnificent. I hope you’ll still be magnificent, I’m not ready to say goodbye. I’m not sure I can afford it either.

Sorry, MacBook Pro, sorry. One moment of carelessness might’ve ruined everything we had. I hope that when I go home tonight, I’ll find you there on my sofa, working as well as you ever have, smelling slightly of coffee, but ready for us to be together. Thing is, I’m not sure that’s going to happen, no matter how hard I wish.

I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Forgive me for what I’ve done.

Love,

Callum

(P.S. it wasn’t even a particularly good coffee)