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Many years ago, after I lost a flash drive (one of those incredibly old, barely hold anything but a couple of documents and don’t you dare try to put art or (gasp!) music on it or else it will implode) I requested another for Christmas. I ended up finding the first one again, but that doesn’t matter because I still got a higher storage one from my honey as a present anyway.

It was the cutest turtle, with a keychain attachment and everything.

You’d pop off his little head and stuff his butt in your computer and he’d save all your stories in 1997 word so you wouldn’t have to use the crappy upgraded ribbon bullshit until you were ready for internet access.

I’ve since broken the keychain part. (That didn’t actually take very long to do because I carried my keys around daily.) And then went ahead and lost the head part a few years later. So now all that’s left is the butt. The cute turtle butt that sticks out of my computers, his invisible little head somewhere inside eating my stories up and storing them in his belly.

If I had to rescue one (writing-related) thing from a burning fire, that would be the thing I grab. A little turtle butt that stores all my completed stories. (And if I’m being honest, I’d probably make it one of a top three things I’d grab if we headed into an all things situation and not just writing-related things.)

Since, I’ve also been gifted a panda bear and an elephant and though they get their time occasionally in the sun, they’re probably put-out that an old, dirty turtle butt gets more use and love.