February 21st was a day to remember. Having risen late, anon sat at his computer and resumed his initial explorations of the world of small Internet communities that he had discovered the previous day. Having grown up during the age of the stable Internet forum, he was ever looking to return to those days when the digital was a quiet, welcoming space to check after the day's work was done, rather than the vast and endless behemoth du jour, where everything was starkly illuminated, and it felt like no secluded corners were left. Some people like corners.
That afternoon, he received a phone call about the job he had applied for. He was starting on Monday, he was told. He wanted to share this news not in twelve-foot letters chirped from the rooftops, but quietly on the corkboard at the back of the local coffee shop, the one in the narrow alleyway, away from the high street.
He felt like he'd returned home.
What other strange things might he leave there in future?