Dear Left AirPod Who Is Gone Too Soon,

We gather here today at 30,000 feet to mourn a loss that never should have happened.

You were small.

You were loyal.

You were 50 percent of my personality.

And now… you are gone.

Not lost in a seat crack. Not left in a hotel room. No. You met your end in the most undignified, unholy place imaginable.

The airplane lavatory.

Specifically, the blue water.

I watched it happen in slow motion. One second you were in my ear, delivering premium noise canceling peace. The next, you slipped. Fell. Disappeared into that chemically enhanced abyss like a fallen soldier in a war no one asked for.

There was a moment… a brief, delusional moment… where I considered retrieval.

But I am not that brave.

I am not that desperate.

And quite frankly, you deserved better than being resurrected from whatever that situation is.

You lived a good life. You got me through delays, crying babies, and one man loudly watching TikToks without headphones. You were there when I needed you most. And in the end, you sacrificed yourself so I could never unknow peace again.

Your right counterpart sits alone now. Silent. Confused. Useless. A widower.

I will never forget you.

But I will absolutely be buying a replacement set the second we land.

Sincerely,

A Passenger in Mourning

(Currently listening to nothing and forced to hear the full sounds of humanity)