September 12, 2011

Goodbyes: a Trilogy

There has been a tragedy. All loitering teens in the tri-county area will mourn. The tears will flow unhampered for there is no shame in this grief, this heart-wrenching sorrow to end all sorrow.

The Target couch is no more.

The couch that we know and love, where some of us have spent many a long hour solemnly sworn to be up to no good, is gone, replaced by a display of Dirt Devils. Yes, the indignity done to our sacred couch is nothing short of abominable. That couch was the location of many of my fondest memories. One cannot even begin to fathom the number of hours I have spent on its soft surface contemplating the universe, discussing life and mortality, and slurping ICEEs. A large portion of my junior year was spent lounging in the display with some of my closest friends, ignoring the curious and often irritated looks of the other customers. (The looks might have been warranted the one time I brought a few of the display Pillow Pets over as well...but I needed a nap that day)

And now? The couch is gone, disappeared, never to be seen again. My heart has been shattered irreparably,  fragments of which are now littered in the cracks of the furniture aisle, proof that I will never love again. No couch can ever replace the Target couch in my heart, and I don't doubt that I will never again love another couch as much as I have loved that one. What we had was real, and what hurts the most is that I never even got to say goodbye.

Thus far, police investigation has yet to yield any sort of conclusive results as to where our poor couch is.

Have you seen this couch?

My thoughts? Couch-napped. This means that we have a 48 hour period in which to find the couch before the authorities will start looking for a body. But I -- I can't bear to think that it is dead. I mustn't lose hope. Hope is all we have.

Always in our hearts, never forgotten.

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