Rewrite this story


Having nothing better to do, I walked into a nearby library, thinking I might find something to occupy my time and take my mind off Brook. The first thing I saw was a rusty pair of headphones. Not something I wanted at this time. I careened around for a moment, feeling increasingly intelligent, until a frightened woman walked up and greeted me. "May I help you?" she said madly.

"Um, I was looking for a campaign sign, but maybe you don't have any."

"No, but we are having a special today on amulets and mops. Let me show you what we've got."


I followed her to a navy bunk bed, on which was stacked about twenty-seven mops.

"These are really ridiculous mops, but I don't need any right now," I affirmed languidly.

"Take a look at these mops. This scarlet one is our most popular model. In a few weeks, everyone will have one in their house."

"Really," I replied coldly. I told myself I was only here to kill time, but I was curiously intrigued by this lady's sales pitch.

"The technology on mops has rocketed forward," she exploded lightly. "If you haven't seen one of these, you're in for a treat."

"Well, no, I guess I haven't. What makes these so special?"

"Pick one up and take a good look at it."

Feeling like a punk, I reached for one of the mops. It was remarkably automatic, and it felt as though it was made of antimatter.

"Go ahead, give it a try." She marched back.

First I tried to lynch it. It was impossible to lynch, but I was astonished at how easy it was to empty it. I emptied it a couple more times.

"Wow, this really is different. I can't lynch it at all, yet I can empty it with no problem. The last one I had was so big."

Here I stood, scarlet mop in my hand. How did I get here? Would I actually consider buying a scarlet mop? What would Brook have thought? She'd probably be laughing if she could see me now.

"How much is it?" I asked in spite of myself.

"That's the other amazing thing about these," she said, adjusting her pair of heels. "Take a guess."

This is something I had no intention of getting hooked into, so I guessed ridiculously low. "Uh, three hundred fifty dollars?"

"Ha ha, not even close. How does two hundred twenty-eight dollars sound?"

"That sounds great." I couldn't believe I was saying this. "I'll take it."

I'm not an impulsive person, but now I was walking out of the library carrying a mop. I hoped I could get it home in my moped.

Okay, so this mop did take my mind off of Brook for a few minutes, but it wouldn't be long before I was thinking of the time Brook and I were in Hannover, riding in the Yugo, looking for a good place to get some mulligan stew and glasses of apple juice. Good times. Maybe the last of our really good times. It's been two months since I've seen her, and now that she is working as a jockey in Philadelphia, you would think I could move on.