The Battery That Won't Die

A phone, an iPhone 6, in a dark blue case, with a cracked screen, has been in a drawer in a Brooklyn kitchen since 2015. The phone has been, in the years the phone has been in the drawer, mostly plugged in. The phone has refused, in the way some old things refuse, to be thrown away.

The phone has been thought about, by the apartment's occupant, in the years the phone has been in the drawer. The phone has been thought about, in particular, in terms of whether the phone should be thrown away. The phone has, in the years the phone has been in the drawer, accumulated, along with the phone, in the drawer, a number of other things the occupant does not use — old charging cables, a stapler that does not work, a small notebook the occupant started in 2018 and has not opened since.

The phone is, in the years the phone has been in the drawer, the most resilient thing in the drawer.

What the phone is

The phone is, by absolute measurements, an iPhone 6. The phone is, by current standards, small. The phone is, by current standards, slow. The phone has a home button that, on most days, works. The phone has a camera that, by current standards, is barely adequate. The phone has, on the back, a small scratch the occupant does not remember the origin of. The phone has, on the front, a cracked screen the occupant does remember — a fall, on a sidewalk, in 2016, that the occupant thought had broken the phone.

The phone did not, after the fall, stop working. The phone did not, after the fall, lose anything in particular. The screen remained cracked. The phone became, in some small way, the phone the occupant had, in the years the phone has been in the drawer, decided to keep.

Why the phone is kept

The phone is kept for a number of reasons, none of which are, in any obvious sense, good.

The phone is kept because the phone is, in the abstract, the phone the occupant had when the occupant moved to New York. The phone is kept because the phone is, in the abstract, the phone the occupant had when the occupant started the occupant's first job. The phone is kept because the phone is, in the abstract, the phone on which the occupant has, in some cases, photographs of people the occupant no longer speaks to.

The phone is kept because the occupant has, in the years the phone has been in the drawer, been unable, in any clean way, to decide what to do with the phone. The phone is kept because the drawer, in the kitchen, has, on most days, room for one more thing.

The phone is kept, also, because the occupant has, in the years the phone has been in the drawer, been unable, in any clean way, to admit that the occupant is done with the phone.

What has been learned

The occupant has learned, in the years the phone has been in the drawer, that some things are, in fact, hard to throw away.

The occupant has learned, in particular, that the things that are hard to throw away are not, in general, the things that are, in any objective sense, useful. The things that are hard to throw away are, in general, the things that are, in some way, attached to a particular moment. The things that are hard to throw away are, in general, the things that are, in some way, attached to a particular person.

The phone is, in this sense, attached to the year 2015. The phone is, in this sense, attached to the apartment the occupant had, then, in Brooklyn. The phone is, in this sense, attached to the person the occupant was, then, when the occupant was twenty-eight.

The phone has been, in the years the phone has been in the drawer, occasionally taken out, by the occupant, and looked at. The photographs on the phone have been, in the years the phone has been in the drawer, occasionally scrolled through, by the occupant. The occupant has, in the years the phone has been in the drawer, occasionally thought, briefly, about the person the occupant was.

The phone has been, in the years the phone has been in the drawer, occasionally plugged in, by the occupant, and turned on, by the occupant. The small apple logo has been, on those occasions, observed by the occupant, and the lock screen has been, on those occasions, observed by the occupant. The lock screen is a photograph the occupant took, in 2014, of a dog the occupant does not know.

What the phone does

The phone does, when the phone is plugged in, what phones do.

The phone charges. The phone, when the phone is charged, can, in theory, make calls. The phone, when the phone is charged, can, in theory, take photographs. The phone, when the phone is charged, has, on the home screen, a small number of apps that are, by current standards, mostly obsolete.

The phone has, in the years the phone has been in the drawer, not, in fact, been used by the occupant to make calls. The phone has, in the years the phone has been in the drawer, occasionally been used by the occupant to take a photograph, which the occupant has then, because the photograph does not, in any obvious way, go anywhere, deleted.

The phone has, in the years the phone has been in the drawer, on most days, been in the drawer. The phone has, in the years the phone has been in the drawer, on most days, been charged. The phone has, in the years the phone has been in the drawer, on most days, been, in some small way, alive.

A larger thought

The occupant has been thinking, in the months the phone has been in the drawer, about what it means to keep a thing that does not, in any obvious sense, do anything.

The occupant has been thinking, in particular, about the things in the apartment the occupant keeps, even though the occupant does not, in any obvious sense, use them. The watch the occupant's father gave the occupant, in 2003, is one. The chair the occupant has had since college is one. The apron the occupant bought, last winter, in the East Village, is one. The phone in the drawer in the kitchen is one.

The things are, in the abstract, objects. The things have been kept, by the occupant, in the years the occupant has owned them, for reasons that are, on the whole, sentimental. The things have been kept, by the occupant, in the years the occupant has owned them, because keeping them is, in some small way, easier than the alternative.

The occupant has been thinking, in particular, about whether keeping the things is, in some way, a form of resistance. The occupant has been thinking, in particular, about whether keeping the things is, in some way, a refusal to participate in the cycle of buying and replacing the occupant has, in the years the occupant has been alive, participated in.

The occupant has, in the months the occupant has been thinking about this, decided that the keeping is, on the whole, neither resistance nor refusal. The keeping is, on the whole, just keeping. The phone is, in the drawer, because the drawer has room.

What will happen

The phone is going to be kept, by the occupant. The phone is going to be kept, on most days, in the drawer in the kitchen, plugged in, charged, occasionally looked at.

The phone is going to be kept, on most days, not thrown away. The phone is going to be kept, on most days, not taken to the recycling center. The phone is going to be kept, on most days, not given away.

The phone is going to be kept, in the back of the occupant's mind, as a small fact that the phone is, in some way, alive. The phone is going to be kept, in the back of the occupant's mind, as a small fact that the phone is, in some way, the phone the occupant had, in 2015, when the occupant was twenty-eight.

The phone is, on most days, going to be in the drawer. The drawer is, on most days, going to be closed.

The phone, in a moment, is going to be in the drawer. The drawer, in a moment, is going to be in the kitchen. The kitchen, in a moment, is going to be in the apartment. The apartment, in a moment, is going to be in New York.

The phone, in a moment, is going to be alive.