The television was friendly and told you things other people didn’t know.
The television was frank, but polite, convivial, prone to laughter, but not without a serious side. It never asked any favors. It never wanted you to pass the salt. It just sat. You could push its buttons and it didn’t care. Even when the numbers wore off and the remote was so slick with finger grease you could barely hold the thing. You wanted to blame it on your brother, but everyone has finger grease. It could have been you. It could have been anyone. But it certainly wasn’t the television.