There is a Bureau of Lost Objects, located somewhere down a street whose name we have forgotten. The Bureau is open all hours of every day, but occasionally closes with when sun is particularly bright on a soft spring day, as those who work at the Bureau enjoy taking long strolls after picnic lunches around the small lake that horseshoes the park situated close by the Bureau of Lost Objects.
In the Bureau, all lost objects are categorized according to type, size, relative value, level of sentimentality, and dimension (current fixed point in space/time). Oh yes, they are also cross-referenced by what fruit or vegetable they closely resemble, but not for any particular reason.
The Bureau of Lost Objects contains such items as rings, pencils, pens, cellphones, keys, credit cards, snowshoes, banners, headlights, toy frogs, stuffed bears, checkbooks, memories, USB drives, old photographs, lost loves, books, iPads, heroism, virginity, speakers, helmets, soccerballs, Wal-Mart receipts (for items never to be returned or exchanged, as they are lost as well), objectivity, clarity, game cartridges, memory cards, passkeys, any number of thumb-thick toys from various vending machines, lottery tickets, train tickets, plane tickets, parking tickets, symphony tickets (yes, even those left at Will Call), youth, beauty, newspapers, reports, hardcopies of the PowerPoint presentation you made for your boss, transistors, remote controls, slippers, underwear (after having that one last shot that you probably shouldn't have, knowwaddImean?), self-respect, respect for others, decency, screwdrivers, piledrivers (if you're in construction), Hummers (if you're in the mililtary), spoons, stones, birth certificates, drivers licenses, pajamas, that one particular bra that you know he likes, jars, dog collars, windowblinds, senses of direction, Christmas tree ornaments, and senses of purpose . . .
just to name a few.
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