I stepped outside, told myself I’d handle it. “Hey, man, you can’t be here like that.” He stopped, looked right through me, and said, “I’m walking to the sun, friend.” Then he kept moving, like I didn’t exist.

Called security, but by the time they showed up, he was gone. Just the cart left behind, rattling in the wind.

Went back inside, leaned on the counter, and whispered, “Yes, friend. This is fine.”

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5630779&forum_id=2)#48314477)

Curiosity got the better of me. I unfolded it to find a crudely drawn sun with the words: “Keep walking, friend.”

I stood there for a moment, staring at the cart as the wind picked up, rattling it softly against the pavement. Around me, the world moved on—cars pulling in and out, customers walking past, eyes glued to their phones. No one noticed.

Later that afternoon, a HR came by, asking if I’d seen the naked guy again. I shook my head, but deep down, I knew he hadn’t left. Not really.

By the end of my shift, as I leaned on the counter and watched the cart sway slightly in the wind, I whispered to myself, "Yes, friends. This is fine."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5630779&forum_id=2)#48358987)

Just Jump, and let the absurdity consume you.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5630779&forum_id=2)#48341782)

My cart rattles already.

I step gladly into orbit.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5630779&forum_id=2)#48883573)