I got a pair of wireless headphones. We were happy for a while, or, at least, I was. I paired them to my phone and learned their name.
I lost them within a week. They were gone before I recycled the box they came in. I had been worried that the chassis that held the charging port wasn’t very sturdy. I didn’t have to worry anymore.
It was so sudden. “They’ll be back,” I thought. “As soon as I buy replacement wireless headphones, they’ll come back to mock me.” I didn’t want to be like in the movie where the woman who has been missing assumed dead meets her husband’s new wife. “I moved on,” he tearfully explains. “What else was I supposed to do?”
I was in denial. The days waned on and on without them, and finally I thought, well, if they turn up again, I’ll have two. I got another pair.
I’ve had the new pair twice as long as the first.
They never turned up. They had stepped off the planet and released themselves into space, forever, trailing their weird little rubber stoppers behind them.
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