I wanted to end the pillow story on a happy note. I don’t know. I just did. It’s just, things get wasted; we toss them aside. Pillows get left under trees. Garbage shoals form in the Pacific. Albatrosses light on them to die.

Today, though, I watched the street. I watched the lawn where the pillow was, and eventually, I saw this:

That’s right. Who’s a good boy?

(Go on and mock me. I deserve it.)