Teddy bears, an alarm clock with real numbers that turn on wheels, four fireplace matches in a disintegrating box, a dozen dog-eared math workbooks.
One hundred titty twisters, a thousand pokes to a prepubescent chest, fifty noogies, three attempted swirlies.
Come get them, before they’re gone!
A plastic trike. A bicycle with wooden wheels. Roller skates. Inline skates. A broken skateboard. A child’s sling. An adult’s sling – ten.
Five hundred empty envelopes. Six hundred and eighty postcards; half written on. Ninety pens, seventy-four pencils, unsharpened and sharpened. A sea of stickers. An ocean of uncried tears.
Will remove ad when items are gone.
Blood pressure monitors. Scales. Oxygen tubing. Party decorations. Unspoken expectations. Raised eyebrows. Carpet remnants.
Best friendships. Blanket tents. Surprises. Prom dresses, embroidered jeans, hair clips, bolo ties, tap shoes, snorkel, spyglass.
More coming. Please leave the empty boxes. Don’t make a mess, and remember, you only live once. — The Kids (former)