“Very… walk-like,” I said.
I think I’ll keep her. And the lamp.
But she did smile when the shrimp lamp arrived on the coffee table.
Last Sunday, it happened. A local electronics surplus sale. The kind of place where “unclaimed luggage,” “overstock from bankrupt factories,” and “slightly cursed robots” go to die. A flyer appeared in my social media feed at 2 AM. I was weak. I was foolish. And most damning of all—I decided not to tell my wife. I told her I was going for a “morning walk” to clear my head. She smiled, handed me a water bottle, and said, “Don’t buy anything stupid.”
Then I saw the second item. A “mystery bag” of used game cartridges for the Super Famicom. No returns. Three thousand yen. Inside? Five copies of Pachi-Slot Kenkyuu and one unlabeled cartridge that just crashes to a green screen. A masterpiece.
You would be wrong.
She didn’t yell. Worse—she sighed. That long, tired sigh of a woman who has married a man-child. Then she asked: “Did you at least get me anything?”
Just don’t tell her I’m going back next month. Next time, buy two mystery bags. One for you. One for her.
