Possession

Dear readers,
I have done a terrible thing - I have lost the Sad Bicycle.
For a while I was hoping that it was simply being tethered somewhere else - or perhaps it had been forgotten outside of some building - you know, the bikes you see chained up in increasingly more random ways - sometimes simply to another of their kind. But no, I had seen neither paint nor tape of the Sad Bicycle.
It struck me as odd that I was constantly keeping my eyes peeled for the little blue bike, it's not as though I had any reason to be. The owner remains mysterious (my vivid imagination rathers that the Sad Bicylce have no owner), it is a pathetic little thing probably headed in the direction of the consignment store, and it really has no bearing on my otherwise mature and bustling university life. But I have grown attached to it.
Everyone grows accustomed to the little things that make their days meaninful - everyone creates these little things to begin with. They help us to find a rhythm without being bored, and each time they happen they reassure us and our superstitions. They are both things to look forward to and things that surprise us. Socially, it becomes the gatherings of the members of your hall for conversation and mischief at all hours of the day, or collapsing on a friends bed wihtout the effort to reach your own. Personally, though, I find that you make certain points of the day, or certain things, yours. It could be the quiet minutes of haphazard half-sleep as you stumble through otherwise silent halls to a searing shower, it could be the last bite of 89% chocolate, 11% muffin of your breakfast, or it could be seeing that silly little bicylce each time you leave home and come back.
And now I have lost it. Or the owner has lost it. Or the Sad Bicylcle has gone and lost itself. Either way I am now going to half to get used to the fact that my little friend is gone into the void that is my non-world.