The wrapper:

I climb white stairs that the too bright bulbs turn piss yellow, 4 floors, 182 steps, a guess, a number that seems bizarre enough that it might be on the money. I notice a wrapper on the floor, brown and white ripped apart at some near location savagely for the purpose of a sugar rush. Whisked away here after all of it has been properly shoved down ones gullet, then again knowing that the supermarket is about 20 minutes away, perhaps the wrapper raper has devoured this chocolate bliss after leaving the market and done a tremendously inadequate job of lodging it in ones pocket and the movement of the pants from climbing a step has caused the wrapper to fall here where it now lays on the third step, naked and alone, stepped over by every person for the five fucking days it has parked itself there. Now the Wrapper Raper must have come out at some point in the span of these five days, walked past judging with that better than everybody smile, people whom throw garbage out or perhaps every time he notices the wrapper he feels a tinge of guilt but not enough to bend down and correct his crime, or he really just doesn’t give a fuck. All of these still leave the wrapper on the third step waiting for another passerby. About sixty people live in this apartment block whom have noticed this and not picked it up, now let’s say these sixty people go in and out the apartment block two times a day, that’s is 4 times they see the wrapper a day, that is 240 times a day that a human feasts it’s eyes upon poor ripped apart wrapper, that is 1200 times in these five days a person has shrugged and thought nahhh not my problem.

So today I walk past and I take my turn to feast upon this mangled corpse of a once delicious chocolate treat and I stop for a second, staring at the wrapper and then the bag where I could comfortably with little to no effort place it, then simply disperse of it later, however my made of sewage and all things shit conscience battles this and I come to a conclusion that somebody might want it back and step over  it,  the very next second I realise how ridiculous it sounds. Now what should have come to pass was me admitting and correcting the error of my fickle ways by picking lonesome wrapper. Sorry, buzzer sound, that is not the world we live in, I continued my trek up to the 4th floor and I sat down on my semi-comfy sofa and begun to write, thank god a cleaner comes once a week or it might be there forever.

See you tomorrow wrapper.

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