To the tune of "The Apology Song"

I'm really sorry mom, but your bicycle's been stolen.

I've never had anything stolen from me before. I've never stolen anything before. I can't imagine taking anything that wasn't mine, though thank goodness I've never had to be in a situation desperate enough to necessitate stealing.

I got this sinking feeling in my stomach today when I looked at the empty space on the bike rack where my bicycle had been several days earlier. The lock was simply cut off. And I keep asking myself who would steal bicycle while bawling over the loss. Then again, I would prefer to lose a bicycle rather than something more substantial. Like my car or my mind, for instance.

But still, it's strange, the attachments I form with non-living objects. I have a propensity for personification. Obviously I'm aware of the fact that my bike isn't cold and scared right now. We've just shared a lot of good memories.

In any case, I'll be spending the next few days mourning.