only in new york
on a bright and brisk morning this week, my coworkers and i arrived at the shop to find this on our stoop:
that's right, a ratty old, owner-less, smelly, and incredibly mysterious futon mattress. how does something like this happen? a lover's quarrel in one of the above apartments? moving truck too full? perhaps the doings of the resident homeless guy? and why, oh why, in front of innocent Azaleas...leaving the three of us to squeamishly kick and nudge it out of sight?
we don't know. but what we do know is: only in new york.
p.s.
if you are the owner of this mattress: we're sorry. maybe next time try flowers.