I had an old calculator. My dad’s dad got through high school with it, my father used it in college, I used it as a freshman in college. The thing was ancient; it took 2 giant batteries in the back and everything. Looked killer, though, and felt sturdy and real. I loved that thing.

One day in math class I’m taking a test, and the thing starts to shutter. I replace the batteries, but it doesn’t help. I continue to take the test, watching as my calculator slowly fades. I realize it’s the only calculator I have on hand, so I start hurrying before it finally gives out. I’m rushing through each question all while this heirloom, this piece of familial history slowly gives out before my eyes. Finally, I get to the last question:

“find the length of the opposite side of the given angle within the right triangle”

One by one, I jam in all the figures I need to, trying to squeeze one last equation into my calculator’s life. Finally, with its last bit of life, it pushes out the answer I need. I scribble it down, and the calculator shuts down for good. Then, it all hit me:

It died for my sins.