When my phone got stolen last year, I didn’t panic. The thief never logged out of my iCloud.
Now I get a front row seat to his life—selfies, screenshots, family photos—all syncing straight to me. He thought he scored a free phone. He actually handed me control of his memories.
Sometimes I log in and delete chunks of his gallery. One night it was 287 photos gone in a tap. I don’t even want the phone back. He didn’t steal from me; he signed up to be my digital stress toy.
