The Weeds

The motivation to do something profound had somehow escaped his body. It didn't leave a Dear John or waver at the door-- it just left. He got over it somehow. He bought a bottle of soda and a few bags of Dipsy Doodles. Things were fine. He was complacent in his bed, drowning in forgotten movies from his attic.

Before all this he had a few ideas about the world. He had read Fitzgerald and felt like he had knew just how the things actually worked. Motivation comes and goes he thought. It's not a huge loss. He figured there's always Dipsy Doodles, macaroons and soda to keep him busy.

He went along like this for a while. No one seemed to mind or care until he ran into it again at the grocery store. It had been eyeing some frozen peas to make for a rather ornate dinner party. He had a basket full of Baskin Robbins and cold medicine. They didn't say anything at first, until he decided to speak up.

Uh...my hands are sort of full, could you grab some mint chocolate chip?