Life, Problems

@Wherefore_Art_Thou_Wallet-O

Stores. Those...those exist. We all go to them. And they're pretty dang helpful, too. Looking for new shizzle? Some store's got it down. Starting this chapter off positively, huh?

Walmart! Target! Value Village, Plato's Closet! You're ready! I'm ready! I love exclamation marks!! We're going shopping!

For what, now? I need pants. Simple enough. Let's go buy some pants. Value Village has got to have some.

And they do! It's an endless store, Value Village. A door-opener. Open the door-opener's open door even more and see rows and rows of pants. There's a lot of pants! And a few other things, but there's a whole lot of pants. Look around! We've got blue pants, red pants, yellow pants, grey pants, black pants. Want some fluffy pink pants? I've seen those! Have some fluffy pink pants!

And of course, your one-way ticket to an unlimited supply of pants – Wallet. Your wallet! It's that thing that holds all your money, you know? If you don't have one, your parents must. It's fashionable, it's efficient, it's the wallet. Wonderful.

So you've tried on your pants. Many pairs of pants have entered, but only a few will pass the test. You're rolling on up to the counter – figuratively or literally – with your many wonderful pants, pulling out your wallet to pay for them and then glide them home in your car to your currently-empty closet. Whatever could go wrong?

When you pull your hand out of your pocket and it comes out empty, that's when there's a problem.

Maybe you're confused. Stunned. Maybe you pat your pockets down, empty your sweater, rifle through your backpack. But it's not there. The wallet. It's gone. It's MIA.

Time to call in the big guns. The emotional tie breakers. A whisper-yell of 'Why?' here, a dramatic, anime-style grab of the wrist there, things like that. Maybe you even start talking in capital letters or pack infinite dot-dot-dots between your words. Either way, it's going down.

You apologize politely to the cashier, who's most likely uncomfortable watching your hands shake over-dramatically and listening to your frantic mumbling. You run back, replacing all your almost-new pants onto the shelves.

Goodbye, sky blue pants. Farewell to the light pink puffy pants. Ah, you thin little maroon-and-gold-spotted pants, will I ever see you again?

Probably. You'll be okay. Maybe you go home, retrieve your wallet and return for your pants, or maybe you manage to forget about your would-be pant haul in a matter of hours. The best---or worst---stuff, though, is when you just sit and mull on those pants for a good, good long time. Probably longer than necessary, but who's here to judge? Not me. Those were your pants, and you deserved them.

Better luck next time, eh? Hopefully those pink puffy pants will still be where you left them.