The day my iPhone left me, it rained. I appreciated the dramatic emphasis provided by the storm outside as I stood clutching the phone’s chamfered edges and postponing the moment I had to hand it over. I tried not to be an incarnation of the first world problems meme as I swapped out the SIM card, clicked its tiny plastic edges into an adapter and slotted it into its new home. I squeezed the Z10’s power button and it came to life in a swirl of blue. I was officially a BlackBerry user. Again.
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