There it was, emerging from the bottom of a cacophony of junk in a cardboard box from Home Depot. The tealest of teal. Electric teal. For the first time since sometime in the early 1990s, I immediately recognized the corner of my old Jordache wallet. Me, a modern day archaeologist, surveyed the finding of something lost.
My aural senses were jostled by the staticky crackling of the Velcro enclosure, as I separated both sides from their decades-long slumber. I wondered if Father Time had collected interest on all of these years, and deposited it here for me to find. I'd soon find out.
With patient thumbs, I slowly pulled apart the lone pocket and peered inside. No green. Cue the first sigh. But wait, there was something. Long. Rectangular. White. Something printed on it. I reached in and slowly removed it, like some brittle artifact moments from disintegration.
I read the topmost text. "Blockbuster Video". I couldn't believe it. It was a receipt from Blockbuster. But wait. Did I ever return NBA Jam? Have they been the ones looking to collect interest on all of these years? I crammed the receipt back into the wallet and tossed it into the box. Deep breaths. You'll be okay. Blockbuster went out of business years ago.
Blockbuster… went… out of business… years ago.
Nostalgia tastes so much like saline.