[ WP ] `` I 'd like a refund on my overwhelming sense of existential dread '' `` ... This is a shoe store ''

“ Uh, sir, ” says the shopkeeper. He looks like he wants Jonathan to go to Hell. He probably does want that. Jonathan wants to laugh at his foolishness. *I ’ m already in Hell! Hahaha! * Maybe he wants to cry, actually. “ Are you alright? ” 
 
 *Are you alright? * What kind of question is that? Jonathan is not alright. He is not alright at all. Nothing is alright. Not when he has no meaning. No purpose. No passion. When he doesn ’ t know who he is or who he wants to be. Also, his girlfriend just broke up with him. He will never find love again. Never again. No love or meaning or purpose or passion. No, he is not alright. How could he be? 
 
 So Jonathan says, honestly and bitterly, “ No. ” 
 
 The shopkeeper looks like he ’ s going to personally send Jonathan to Hell. “ Well. Look, I... I ’ m sorry about, um, that. Well. Is there anything I can do for you? ” 
 
 Jonathan lets out a broken laugh. “ I want a refund on my overwhelming sense of existential dread. ” 
 
 “... This is a shoe store. ” 
 
 “ I know, ” Jonathan whispers, and then can ’ t help it: he starts to cry. 
 
 “ Oh, *fuck me*, ” says the shopkeeper. “ Oh, man. Oh, god. Hey, I ’ m sorry. I ’ m really sorry. Please, don ’ t cry. Please. Here, come in. Come in. ” Jonathan stands up shakily, blinking furiously. The shopkeeper awkwardly pats his shoulder, and then his back, and then just gives up and grabs his arm and drags him into the shop. 
 
 The door chimes loudly as they step in. There ’ s a woman leaning on the counter, looking at her phone, an arm languidly stretched out. 
 
 “ Is he gone? ” she asks. 
 
 “ Uh, ” says the shopkeeper, nervously smiling. 
 
 “ Adam, ” the woman says, when her eyes flicker to them, “ when I said, ‘ Get the homeless dude away from my fucking storefront ’, I meant get him away. Not in. ” Her eyes squint. “ Is he crying or sweating? ” 
 
 “ Did you lose your glasses again? ” The woman, the real shopkeeper, gives a short shrug. “ Mom! ” 
 
 “ You thought I was homeless? ” Jonathan demands. 
 
 “ Look, it ’ s 2AM. It was either that, or you were drunk. ” 
 
 “ I wish I was drunk, ” Jonathan mumbles. 
 
 “ Me too, ” Adam says. 
 
 “ Adam! Alright, boy, go sit down on that bench. ” Jonathan does. Why not? It ’ s just that his girlfriend broke up with him, and he ’ s having an existential crisis, and two strangers are just watching him cry. He has nothing more to lose, except his wallet. He has three dollars in it. Oh, god. He has nothing to lose. “ Alright, it ’ s time for some mom time. ” 
 
 “ I have a mom already. ” 
 
 “ Yeah, but I think you need a team of moms, ” says the woman. “ Consider me Mom 2. The blue one, maybe. Alright, kid, what ’ s bothering you? ” 
 
 “ My girlfriend broke up with me and I ’ m having an existential crisis and strangers have seen me cry, ” Jonathan says bleakly. “ And I only have three dollars in my wallet. ” 
 
 “ Aw, no wonder you want to get drunk. Adam, get the beer out. ”
