The Sad Thing

Awake late, my blurry eye is drawn to an illuminated window on the other side of the street.

What I take at first to be a man in a Star Wars mask with his dick out is just a laundry bag hanging on the back of a door.

I feel the pang of disapointment, but I also think “well, so what if it was?”

And that’s the sad thing.

Would I really not be delighted to have glimpsed such an odd thing so seredipitously? Would I not have been pleased as punch to have won such a lottery?

Am I become jaded?

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