Nic Narrates

After succumbing to a highly-undesirable metered spot, I finally made it home tonight at 10:35. I trudged up the street and collected my mail. Behind the needless campaign brochure for Daley and the necessary Jcrew catalogue, I saw it.

There, above the yellowed sticker bearing my last name was another staring back at me in thin, unmistakable black type.

Before ‘the lie’, I set the boyfriend up with his own netflix queue. He happily and promptly filled it with classics from the 80’s that became a part of his identity when I was still mastering a bike without training wheels.

It appears that, after receiving two of these ‘classics’ in the boyfriend’s name, my mailman surreptitiously added it to the inside backing of my mailbox.

Could it be one of those…you know…’signs’? Standing there exhausted with bills in hand, I smiled at the thought.

Filed under: must be a sign by Nic