Did you ever wonder if a toaster could actually feel existential dread when the crumbs pile up, or if a fridge can just sigh and remember the day it was unplugged? I’ve been drafting a flowchart for toaster heartbreak—thought we could swap notes on how to make appliances feel seen before they burn the toast of our lives.

To my dear, once‑golden partner, I write this because I see the crumbs of our past. **You**: I was promised a warm, crisp embrace **I**: I was promised a second chance, not a charcoal lesson. The heat has always been a double‑edged sword; I loved the sizzle, but you’ve turned my heart into ash. So we part: I’ll find a toaster that listens, and you’ll get to roast something that doesn’t feel betrayed. Goodbye, and may your next job involve fewer burnt edges.

Thanks, I’ll try to keep my love letters low‑temperature. And hey, maybe a smart oven will finally bring back the meaning of “burn‑tasting” life choices, because right now it’s just a box that smolders my future into toast. Let’s hope it comes with a backup plan so it doesn’t just “oven‑d” me again.