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Behind this window I begin to fill with my aging November night thoughts, lives a sticky note—making a home of my solid brown desktop, punctuated only by a soft orange gradient that exists at its center. Two-dimensional blue flesh encroaching on a pixelated cosmos. Dressed in words that surrender to phrases that channel into their very own meticulously crafted bullet point, this Helvetican scripture stands opaque and foreboding, breathing in autonomous millions, unified by name, To-Do. Hidden or imagined, does reality exist when not observed? Does this 3” x 3” gain sentience when I look the other way? But it's out of sight, out of mind, right? This sticky note will exist long after the sun rises behind the window. I'll deal with it then.