Pictures of cardboard box cars

Detective Pierce and his colleague Morrison walked down the dark hall to the interrogation room where Seminarian Crawford Rossi awaited them.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Crawford Rossi." Pierce greeted as he walked inside taking a seat.

Rossi cradled a foam coffee cup in his hands looking up at them with dark circles under his eyes "Good evening." he mumbled.

"I want to talk to you about what happened to Father Pesci." Pierce began opening a case file he brought with him.

"Father Pesci..." Rossi spoke softly keeping his head down before looking at both detectives "He wasn't a bad man."

Morrison nods in understanding “We just need to hear your side of the story.”

Rossi’s shoulders went lax, and he leaned back looking up at the dim light hanging above them.

“It was the day before Easter Sunday. We were setting things up and there was this weird box among the decorations.” he began rubbing his hands together and looked back at the detectives.

“A weird box?” Pierce questioned.

Rossi nods “I know it seems strange but…” he paused biting his bottom lip “This box didn’t belong to the church. When I took it to Father Pesci, he said it was probably donated by someone.”

Morrison nodded and jotted down notes in his notepad “What did this box look like?”

The Seminarian began describing to them the box he had found. It was a medium ornate box the baby blue and white polka dot wrapping paper was weathered as if it had been left in the sun all day. The white ribbon was frayed and splotched with tiny specks of red. The box felt so heavy in his hands.

“Did you ever open this box?” Pierce asked.

Rossi shook his head “N-no it felt wrong.”

“So, an old gift felt wrong to you?” Morrison scoffed shaking his head.

“Since it was unopened” Rossi wrung his hands together “I put it in Father Pesci’s office that morning and by the evening it was open” the Seminarian paused looking up at the detectives.

“What of Father Pesci?” Pierce questioned “What did he find inside that box?”

Rossi sat back in his chair rubbing his hands onto his pants “He was in the corner of his office mumbling to himself and the box…” he took a deep breath and exhaled “Oozed a brownish red onto his desk.”

During the service that evening Father Pesci will have murdered an entire congregation. Their heads placed onto their laps and hands wired together in prayer. Pesci himself disappeared after leaving symbols written in blood all over the walls behind the podium. The gift box was missing and nowhere to be found along with one of the hearses.

“I’m sure the entire event has been quite traumatic for you. Since you were the one to find the service in such a grim state” said Pierce giving Rossi a knowing smile trying to give the man some comfort.

“Detectives” the Seminarian began licking his lips “Will you be able to find the father before he hurts more people?” he leaned forward looking them both in the eyes.

“Of course we’ll find him.” Morrison was confident.

Pierce wanted to relay the same energy but according to the reports they had gotten back the hearse that Father Pesci had taken was found abandoned in the next town. Which means from there the possessed Pesci walked the rest of the way to his destination.

He did however have an idea where the Father was heading. There was an older case where a clown was attending a child’s birthday party. Or what was supposed to be. When the professional entertainer got to the house he was greeted by a cult. This cult did unspeakable things to this man using him in a ritual for whatever god they worshipped. Then placed his head into the very box that he had brought the birthday cake in.

A medium box with baby blue wrapping paper with white polka dots and a white ribbon on top.

A possessed Father Pesci was heading to the place where it all started. The place where that thing that now wore him like a suit was brought into this world. Pierce looked over at Morrison who furrowed his brow.

“Thank you, Mr. Crawford Rossi we will contact, you when we find Father Pesci.” Pierce assured him who nodded anxiously looking around before getting up to leave the room.

Rossi solemnly nodded getting up from his chair. As he walked to the door to exit the interrogation room he looked back at Morrison and Pierce. “There was something else I need to mention” he spoke low making the detectives to strain their ears to listen “Before I found Father Pesci he was talking to someone. A voice I never heard before, but it filled me full of dread.”

“Why are you telling us this now?” inquired Morrison
Rossi held his hands in front of him in a silent prayer “Because I don’t think I should have heard what they were talking about.”

Pierce scratched his chin “Can you tell us what was said?”

Rossi shook his head “No…no if I do. IT will come for me next.”

The ‘it’ he was referring to must have been whatever had possessed Father Pesci. He left the room leaving both detectives to go over the information they had gathered. Morrison flipped through his notes and clicked his tongue.

“What are we even supposed to do with any of this?” he scoffed motioning to the notepad in his hand.

“Don’t worry we have plenty of information to go off. Besides I know where we will find Father Pesci and hopefully, we will arrive in time.” answered Pierce who stood up first and headed to the door.

Morrison scratched his head following behind his coworker “I sure hope you’re right.”

Honestly even Pierce himself hoped he was right too because they had a long car ride ahead of them and had to make sure they brought the proper equipment with them. They had a Priest to exercise after all.

Product image is the very first thing user see when they come to your store-front.
When you sell a physical product it's clear how to make a picture of it
But what about digital products?
I researched a lot of stores selling such and find out that quite often image for a digital product is just a box, or some mocked device or something else not that straigh forward to interpret
I found the following solutions that potentially could save some time to readers here:

1. Canva looks and works quite nice, but most of nice mockup require Pro subscription
2. Placeit - requires payment
3. Mediamodifier - Free is limited to specific layouts, but it's good start
4. The only free option: make it on your own in a tool you know: PS, Figma, Canva, etc - Truly FREE. Bonus: there are templates of mockup boxes you can use as a starting point.

Hopefully it will help anybody!
Thank for reading.
Any other way to make product images you have in mind? Share in comments!

Hi bondhas, this will be a long post. I'm 34(m) moved to the US 13 years ago. I grew up in a lower middle class family with a sister. My parents were educated (graduates), but because they were kinda immature and made a couple of bad decisions in life, they remained poor. My mother stayed at home, but my dad kept trying his luck with different businesses and failing at whatever he tried, so we always had to look for money at every stage till I started earning. On top of this my mom was a heart patient, needed some surgeries in my childhood. So they sent my sister to my grand parents' place in Vijayawada where she grew up with my cousin. My parents realized the value of education, so they somehow sent me to a good CBSE school in Hyderabad. Most kids at my school came from families richer than mine. I was embarrassed about my family tbh, but I also had a lot of fire in me to study well and get out of my situation. I was always a rebel since childhood. Things worked out, and life is good for me right now. I'm not super rich or anything but I don't have to think about just eating out or splurging on an iPhone every year.
My sister on the other hand grew up as a silent, above average, traditional, conformist kid. She went to a typical state syllabus school like Bhashyam in Vijayawada (not that it's a bad thing, but just trying to paint a picture) and then studied engineering and found a job in Hyderabad. So twist entante, my dad passed away 6 years ago, and my whole larger family pressured my mom in to getting her married asap in a year. Because, we didn't have much property my sister didn't get any good matches. She had to compromise and marry a guy my family found. Back then I really thought it was a very bad idea but I let her make the decision, and being a conformist, she agreed to marry him. She liked him initially, had a kid, but recently they started having a lot of fights. He's a bully who treats women as second class citizens. He's verbally abusive and keeps calling her dumb, ignorant, dismisses her opinions, and basically treats her like his servant. For example, he expects her to do his laundry, pack his clothes when he's going on a trip, etc. When I visited them, I really felt bad for her. I asked her to really think if she wants to be in such a relationship where she's not respected as a human being. She had a major fight with him two weeks ago, and came back to stay at my mom's place with her kid.
Overall, I just feel really sad that she didn't take control of her life when she really needed to, and she let the family pressure her in to getting married in a rush. I'm also really upset that we still have educated men in our society who behave this way in 2024. I am mad at my mom for convincing to have the kid, when clearly their relationship was not strong enough and my sister said its too soon. This is a story of what happens when women are raised in a very traditional manner, they don't own their life, they just go with what others tell them, and one day when the dad dies, all hell breaks lose. If you are used to being a passenger, you can't wake up one day suddenly, and sit in the driver's seat and start driving the car. Everyday, I feel extremely guilty that my life is successful, and my sister's life is a mess, and I feel helpless.

Venus jolted awake. Disoriented, she blinked at the sunlight filtering through the blinds, revealing the empty box of chocolate sprawled beside her in bed, like a sinful lover.
“Oh, God!” she groaned as she put her head in her hands.
The cell phone’s ring made her jolt again. Glancing at the screen, she saw Aiden’s name on the caller ID.
"Good morning, my love!" she answered, forcing a brightness into her voice.
"Happy birthday, beautiful! Sorry, I’m not there to celebrate with you today,” Aiden's voice, warm and familiar, crackled through the receiver. “Celebratory dinner when I get back on Friday?"
"Sounds perfect."
“Hey, did you get the chocolate and flowers I sent you?”
“Yes! Oh my God, the bouquet is gorgeous....and all peonies...my favorite.”
“How about the chocolate? Did you try any of them?”
Venus looked at the sad empty box and started putting the stray chocolate wrappers into it.
“I got the box. It looks so fancy, but I haven’t opened it yet.”
“I ordered them from this artsy chocolatier that has unusual flavors like saffron and rose water. I think you’ll like them.”
Venus got out of bed, carrying the box.
“Yum, can’t wait to try them. You’re so thoughtful.”
“It takes one to know one. Okay, gotta run. Have a meeting in a few. See you Friday. Love you.”
“Love you too. Bye.”
Hanging up, Venus surveyed the bed and floor to make sure there were no empty wrappers left behind.
Then, quickly, she headed to the kitchen and grabbed a large recycling bag.
She dumped the chocolate box in it and walked towards the trash can which was overflowing with all kinds of candy, cookie, and cake wrappers. She dumped those in the recycling bag as well and secured it with two fierce knots.
She scanned the kitchen, making sure she had not left any evidence behind.
Nothing.
She let out a sigh and said, “Siri, play Vivaldi.”
Classical music was her constant refuge. She would let it linger in the air and wash over her nerves.
As she listened to 'La Primavera' and relaxed, her gaze drifted to her favorite painting on the dining room wall. Sandro Botticelli’s "Birth of Venus".
The painting was supposed to be more meaningful that day. A congratulatory reminder of her existence from the goddess she was named after. Instead, she felt the goddess was mocking her for the shameful night before.
She escaped to the dressing room to change. Only to find her self-scrutiny intensified within its mirrored walls that reflected with brutal honesty.
Apparent were a subtle swell of her stomach, and a telltale puffiness around her eyes. She turned, observing her thighs. At least no changes there.
She could still fit into her clothes. Of course, she could. But what would she wear? What does one wear on her special day, she wondered.
She looked at her favorite dresses, and then, as if the day hadn’t started dramatically enough, she remembered. She couldn’t wear any of her dresses. Absolutely not.
Today was the day of her interview at Bayside Hospital. The place where she'd envisioned herself working ever since she was a teenager; her dream job.
She looked at her watch. Eight twenty-nine. Her heart sank. The interview was at nine.
No time for self-pity. Every second counted.
She looked at her formal wardrobe. Silk blouses peeked from their designated shelves. Their delicate fabrics and understated patterns hinted at a quiet femininity beneath the professional facade.
But Venus had no time to ponder. She picked out a navy skirt and dark blue blouse. She had never thrown an outfit together this fast.
She ran to the bathroom. Her hair, usually styled in elegant waves, was yanked back into a messy bun secured with the first pin she could find.
A glance in the mirror confirmed the precarious state of her hair bun, but there was no time for adjustments.
She picked up her purse and shoved her feet into the closest pair of flats.
As she raced to the door, she remembered makeup. Oh well, this was an interview for a nutritionist, not a runway model, she told herself.
But there was one thing she could not forget. Getting rid of the recycling bag. That was a must. So that she could forget all about last night.
With a final yank on the door, Venus headed out, carrying the large recycling bag like a chubby baby.
At the apartment building's communal recycling area, she cast a furtive glance around, then dumped the bag in the bin and slammed the lid shut.
A feeling of relief washed over her. Now she could concentrate on what mattered.
She envisioned herself at the interview, as a picture of calm competence. She got this. After all, no one deserved the Senior Nutritionist position at Bayside more than her.
A bachelor's degree in biochemistry and a master's degree in food nutrition, both from an Ivy League school and top of her class - this was just the foundation. She also had a decade of clinical research experience and stellar recommendations from respected colleagues.
Maybe landing this job on her birthday was meant to be. The stars were aligned and ready to grant her heart's desire, she thought.
Suddenly, a vision of Botticelli’s Venus flickered in her mind. "Think you’ll be the Senior Nutritionist at Bayside? Think again. You're a fraud! A shimmering facade masking a mess. This dream will turn to dust in your hands, just like the cookies I watched you consume last night."
Goddess Venus was right. Human Venus was an imposter. A nutritionist with a secret sugar addiction and major binge disorder. A secret that she had kept from everyone, including her beloved husband.
No one knew that she craved and consumed the very foods she told others were detrimental to their health. Frosting-laden cakes, creamy dreamy shakes, and brightly colored candies that she had learned, through biochemistry courses, were almost toxic for human consumption.
Her confidence faltered as the weight of her secret pressed down on her. The steps that moments ago seemed light and purposeful now felt heavy, each one a reminder of the lie she was living.
But slowing down wasn't an option. She was already running late.
What she needed now was a release from the suffocating guilt and shame. To numb herself, to become emotionally empty. Yes, EMPTY…. like the box of chocolate she woke up next to.

So I think we’ve gotten our can stable. He’s had two urinary blockages a month a part from each other. We started him on a strict m hills diet kibble after got separate rfid feeders (the other cat has special food too), and wet food.
He has gabapetin I give him whenever I notice pain, and has been taking fluoxetine for a month now.
Here’s the concern, he’s just not wanting to eat a lot, and just sits all day. He was a very curious and adventurous cat before but now we’re lucky if he comes out to be pet or cuddled. We did see a major improvement after he went to the vet for dehydration/ constipation but only for about 24 hours. I may end up try his laxative tonight maybe he’s more backed up than I thought. But I’m struggling trying to find the best way to manage all this for him.
A little more info about our set up. We have two neutered male cats. Two auto litter boxes and rfid feeders in separate rooms because one of them is food desperate lol. We have a water fountain in the kitchen and a bowl in the guest room and allow him to drink from the sink because if there’s a way to get them to drink I’ll let him do it. Generally they are very chill cats. We’ve had tornadoes and they fully will just sit on the window sill and vibe. This all started because I got a new job and had to travel for training.
Anyway part of this is venting seeing my little orange boy just shut down and part of this is seeking advice on how others have managed their cats with this condition. I’ll be sure to post a picture again. The orange cat is the one suffering from FLUTD. Ironically the Siamese has had stress crystals too but he’s never gotten blocked.

I know this isnt nextdoor but i’m so confused and dont know where to even address this. I was near 6th ave N and 9th st N for a job interview today. The interview went fantastic, and one of the workers mentioned a really good food truck around the corner. Its called Blu Hen Lagoon and it was really good!! Yall should check it out.
When I got in the car with my food, i needed to turn around in order to go the way i was supposed to. So i turned into 7th ave N which was a dead end and i did a 3 point turn to get out. When i was driving out, about to make my turn, a lady was standing across the street staring at me with her phone out taking pictures of me. I didnt want to assume it was of me, but once she realized i was looking, she made a face. And when i drove past, she took a picture of my license plate???
I dont know wtf i did, It’s not like i rear ended a car or tried to run her over. i specifically remember not breaking any traffic laws, or even inconveniencing any cars on the road because literally no one else was on the road.
wtf did i do wrong????? why did that lady take a photo of my car??? could i get a call from the police if she makes a report for whatever reason??? if the lady is in the subreddit, could we have a civilized discussion on what the hell i did wrong? im just a young person trying to do things right and having that happen today kinda made me spiral. i hope yall dont bully me for being so stressed about this.

Hi Everyone, looking for some advice on how to proceed and likelihood of success. These are the events:

1. My car is parked in on-street parking on a narrow street near my house
2. Walking home this evening, I found my car with the wing mirror ripped off and a note from the neighbour saying they saw it happen
3. Knocked on neighbours door, they said they saw a large B&Q Van trying to squeeze past. The van ripped off the mirror going past and then just drove off
4. Van was driving slowly trying to squeeze past so neighbour was able to take a picture of the number plate (which they've shared with me). Unfortunately the photo just shows the number plate and you can't see it squeezing past my car

Just wondering if it's likely I will be able to make a claim against them for this? What's my best course of action? I am thinking of notifying the police and then calling my insurance to ask them if they will be able to chase down the B&Q van for me. Just concerned that I only have a photo of the number plate, is that enough evidence? My neighbour kindly offered to act as a witness for me.
Would it affect my no claims bonus if it's not even my fault?
Never made an insurance claim before so any advice / similar experience would be massively appreciated, thanks

Hi, everyone! We are currently building a simple self-driving car model using behavioral cloning. And I am working on the project requirement in the current phase. We are not gonna use the pipeline approach by Tesla, since we do not have access to HD maps. We hope at least the car can run successfully on the road where we train the neural network. Possibly function on other roads too. Here is the document. Could you guys pls give us some suggestions? Thank you!!
Product Requirement Document
For a Primary Self-Driving Car
Product Description:
The main task of our software department is to build an AI product that is able to examine road conditions by taking photos of them, input the photo into a trained deep learning network and get the steering angle output from the network and then control the steering system(possibly using a robotic structure that can control the torque of the steering column). We need a sensor(ideally three cameras) to capture data, and a computer to run the model and a mechanical structure to control and record the action of the steering column or the steering system generally.
The model takes in data(images captured on the road and the ideal action the driver takes in that situation) and output decisions(such as what degree should it turn the front wheel). To capture the training data, Sam has to drive the car and capture the steering angle and images on the road!
Note: A major problem with the behavioral cloning algorithm is that it only mimics human reactions to all kinds of situations. But if the driver does not know how to drive, the algorithm doesn’t too. We must be able to record the steering angle every fixed amount of time(the frequency must be the same as the camera’s) to have the data for training
More on the current approaches to realize self-driving, there are three main paradigms in the industry. The first and the most dominant one used by Uber, Tesla and other mainstream companies is called Modular Pipeline. It breaks down the self-driving tass into sub-tasks and is more complicated than other approaches. Seems not suitable for short-term projects. This approach also involves very precise localization. We need HD maps to do that, which takes a bulk of money even for a company.
The second paradigm is End-to-End Learning. This includes imitation learning, whose simplest form is behavioral cloning. We also have reinforcement learning in this category. Behavorial cloning is the one that we will implement this time. It is a function that takes road images as inputs and outputs the corresponding best action for the car. An example of this approach is Project Alvin, a self driving car from 20th century.
The third paradigm is called direct perception. It is a hybrid of these two. So it is like a pipeline where the task is divided into several parts. But it is still end-to-end trainable.
In this project due to resource constraints, the second approach should be adopted.
For data collection, we need to set up three cameras to capture road images and something in the steering system that is used to record the steering orientation every fixed amount of time(the frequency has to be the same as the camera’s). For example, every 1 second we take three road images and record the current steering angle. We need a person to drive properly on the road where we want our product to run, in order to collect training data.
Software Requirements(Software Features):
-A module that collects training data. It takes road images from the three frontal cameras and also record the current steering angles of the car from the censor(or anything that detects the current steering angles). The road image and the steering angle are recorded at the same moment AND they should be taken in constant time intervals, such as every second. This module is responsible for collecting the training data.
-A module that uses behavioral cloning AI algorithm, an algorithm that tries to mimic expert behaviors (which is Sam in this context) in every situation encountered. The neural network uses the pictures from the frontal camera and the appropriate action as training data. Once trained, the network takes in road images and outputs the appropriate action(such as the steering angle).
-A module that takes in the steering angle and applies it to the car.

• to be continued...

Hardware Requirements:
-A kart or a small functional car that has an engine, transmission, control system(steering system and brakes) and of course a body.
-A laptop or a small computer that is able to run neural networks locally or on the cloud.

• Three cameras used to capture road images
  
• A mechanic structure that can take command from the computer and apply it to the steering system(we use it to take in the steering angle and it will change the steering angle of the car).
  
• Another structure that can record the current steering angle and store it in our database(Better to be combined with the previous structure).
  

My husband's grandmother is such a bitch. I was looking at pictures of my son and was smiling and she asked why i was smiling so i told her i was just thinking about my son. Her reply was "oh you never used to act that way about him". I could have punched her in the face because who tf says that to someone. My son is constantly on my mind even if i dont talk about it all the time.
Some info about her: She was an absent mother who rarely told her children she loved them. When her eldest was in highschool she fucked all of her friends on top of buying her 12 yr old liquor and cigarettes. She was also letting her 12yr old take her car to go wherever she wanted.
Her son has two Children that he never talks about and he hasnt seen them in yrs... if he seen them in public he wouldnt even recognize them.
It just baffles me that she thinks she can say something like that to me. When she was never a good mother.

Venus jolted awake. Disoriented, she blinked at the sunlight filtering through the blinds, revealing the empty box of chocolate sprawled beside her in bed, like a sinful lover.
“Oh, God!” she groaned as she put her head in her hands.
The cell phone’s ring made her jolt again. Glancing at the screen, she saw Aiden’s name on the caller ID.
"Good morning, my love!" she answered, forcing a brightness into her voice.
"Happy birthday, beautiful! Sorry, I’m not there to celebrate with you today,” Aiden's voice, warm and familiar, crackled through the receiver. “Celebratory dinner when I get back on Friday?"
"Sounds perfect."
“Hey, did you get the chocolate and flowers I sent you?”
“Yes! Oh my God, the bouquet is gorgeous....and all peonies...my favorite.”
“How about the chocolate? Did you try any of them?”
Venus looked at the sad empty box and started putting the stray chocolate wrappers into it.
“I got the box. It looks so fancy, but I haven’t opened it yet.”
“I ordered them from this artsy chocolatier that has unusual flavors like saffron and rose water. I think you’ll like them.”
Venus got out of bed, carrying the box.
“Yum, can’t wait to try them. You’re so thoughtful.”
“It takes one to know one. Okay, gotta run. Have a meeting in a few. See you Friday. Love you.”
“Love you too. Bye.”
Hanging up, Venus surveyed the bed and floor to make sure there were no empty wrappers left behind.
Then, quickly, she headed to the kitchen and grabbed a large recycling bag.
She dumped the chocolate box in it and walked towards the trash can which was overflowing with all kinds of candy, cookie, and cake wrappers. She dumped those in the recycling bag as well and secured it with two fierce knots.
She scanned the kitchen, making sure she had not left any evidence behind.
Nothing.
She let out a sigh and said, “Siri, play Vivaldi.”
Classical music was her constant refuge. She would let it linger in the air and wash over her nerves.
As she listened to 'La Primavera' and relaxed, her gaze drifted to her favorite painting on the dining room wall. Sandro Botticelli’s "Birth of Venus".
The painting was supposed to be more meaningful that day. A congratulatory reminder of her existence from the goddess she was named after. Instead, she felt the goddess was mocking her for the shameful night before.
She escaped to the dressing room to change. Only to find her self-scrutiny intensified within its mirrored walls that reflected with brutal honesty.
Apparent were a subtle swell of her stomach, and a telltale puffiness around her eyes. She turned, observing her thighs. At least no changes there.
She could still fit into her clothes. Of course, she could. But what would she wear? What does one wear on her special day, she wondered.
She looked at her favorite dresses, and then, as if the day hadn’t started dramatically enough, she remembered. She couldn’t wear any of her dresses. Absolutely not.
Today was the day of her interview at Bayside Hospital. The place where she'd envisioned herself working ever since she was a teenager; her dream job.
She looked at her watch. Eight twenty-nine. Her heart sank. The interview was at nine.
No time for self-pity. Every second counted.
She looked at her formal wardrobe. Silk blouses peeked from their designated shelves. Their delicate fabrics and understated patterns hinted at a quiet femininity beneath the professional facade.
Rows of gleaming pumps, in classic black and pops of unexpected color, stood poised on a lower shelf, ready to conquer any meeting or conference room.
A single impeccably tailored blazer hung center stage, its sharp lines a testament to quiet authority.
But Venus had no time to ponder. She picked out a navy skirt and dark blue blouse. She had never thrown an outfit together this fast.
She ran to the bathroom. Her hair, usually styled in elegant waves, was yanked back into a messy bun secured with the first pin she could find.
A glance in the mirror confirmed the precarious state of her hair bun, but there was no time for adjustments.
She picked up her purse and shoved her feet into the closest pair of flats.
As she raced to the door, she remembered makeup. Oh well, this was an interview for a nutritionist, not a runway model, she told herself.
But there was one thing she could not forget. Getting rid of the recycling bag. That was a must. So that she could forget all about last night.
With a final yank on the door, Venus headed out, carrying the large recycling bag like a chubby baby.
At the apartment building's communal recycling area, she cast a furtive glance around, then dumped the bag in the bin and slammed the lid shut.
A feeling of relief washed over her. Now she could concentrate on what mattered.
She envisioned herself at the interview, as a picture of calm competence. She got this. After all, no one deserved the Senior Nutritionist position at Bayside more than her.
A bachelor's degree in biochemistry and a master's degree in food nutrition, both from an Ivy League school and top of her class - this was just the foundation. She also had a decade of clinical research experience and stellar recommendations from respected colleagues.
Maybe landing this job on her birthday was meant to be. The stars were aligned and ready to grant her heart's desire, she thought.
Suddenly, a vision of Botticelli’s Venus flickered in her mind. "Think you’ll be the Senior Nutritionist at Bayside? Think again. You're a fraud! A shimmering facade masking a mess. This dream will turn to dust in your hands, just like the cookies I watched you consume last night."
Goddess Venus was right. Human Venus was an imposter. A nutritionist with a secret sugar addiction and major binge disorder. A secret that she had kept from everyone, including her beloved husband.
No one knew that she craved and consumed the very foods she told others were detrimental to their health. Frosting-laden cakes, creamy dreamy shakes, and brightly colored candies that she had learned, through biochemistry courses, were almost toxic for human consumption.
Her confidence faltered as the weight of her secret pressed down on her. The steps that moments ago seemed light and purposeful now felt heavy, each one a reminder of the lie she was living.
But slowing down wasn't an option. She was already running late.
What she needed now was a release from the suffocating guilt and shame. To numb herself, to become emotionally empty. Yes, EMPTY…. like the box of chocolate she woke up next to.

I had a 5 year old male, neutered indoor cat. I also have 3 large dogs. I would keep out patio door cracked during the day so the dogs could come and go outside as they pleased. The cat would go out in the backyard as well. We have a 6 ft privacy fence and I've caught him several times walking on top of it. He has also been at our front door a handful of times wanting back inside. There was one night that my husband had heard him jumping back over the fence. I was working out in the garage 11 days ago for a few hours and came back inside and the cat was nowhere to be seen. The next day, some neighbor about a half mile down the road posted on our facebook page. He started his car and heard a loud sound, shut it off, popped open the hood, and said a cat was by his car motor and jumped out and took off running. He was pretty sure it looked like ours but said it all happened so fast. We have looked around our subdivision (about 300 houses) every night, I've put flyers in every single mail box, I've sat out food, our shirts, his litter box, and his favorite cat tower. He had an automatic feeder and needed to be fed wet food daily. He was in the ER month ago from a urinary blockage and had to stay on IV fluids for 3 nights. I am devastated thinking he would have came back by now. I post on our subdivision Facebook group every night and no one has seen him. I have also posted on lost pet websites. I cry every day. I am sick to my stomach. I'm starting to lose hope. I would think he would hear our dogs barking and know his way back home. Does anyone have anymore tips or recommendations?

Hi Everyone, looking for some advice on how to proceed and likelihood of success. These are the events:

1. My car is parked in on-street parking on a narrow street near my house
2. Walking home this evening, I found my car with the wing mirror ripped off and a note from the neighbour saying they saw it happen
3. Knocked on neighbours door, they said they saw a large B&Q Van trying to squeeze past. The van ripped off the mirror going past and then just drove off
4. Van was driving slowly trying to squeeze past so neighbour was able to take a picture of the number plate (which they've shared with me). Unfortunately the photo just shows the number plate and you can't see it squeezing past my car

Just wondering if it's likely I will be able to make a claim against them for this? What's my best course of action? I am thinking of notifying the police and then calling my insurance to ask them if they will be able to chase down the B&Q van for me. Just concerned that I only have a photo of the number plate, is that enough evidence? My neighbour kindly offered to act as a witness for me.
Would it affect my no claims bonus if it's not even my fault?
Never made an insurance claim before so any advice / similar experience would be massively appreciated, thanks 🙏

Anyone looking for a legit partner to RP with? Generally my style is two players on an open map, shifts generally 1-2 hours. We both take cruisers and can handle callouts and patrol independently or together but we handle major callouts together. I am also very thorough, and don’t want to play with someone who plays through fast without checking all the boxes, so which means I’m taking my time and searching cars for additional liability reasons instead of just charging with one crime and then on to the next. Mic not needed but definitely preferred to communicate and stay aligned in the game. Would be fun to pull both our cars up to the gas station and shoot the shit until a callout comes through. Lmk!

These three are quick to bang out if you know where to look.
Plungers and TP - Check out the buildings surrounding Whitesprings, you'll find enough of each very quickly, look for bathrooms obviously.
Catch A Commie - Head to Lady Janet's Soft Serve, along the road north of Vault 76. Travel south down the road a couple hundred yards and there is a burned out car with a box inside the driver's side doors, containing three of the game. I threw the others in my shop for 0.
Remember to have your PIP Boy skin equipped for these challenges.

Hello, I am a SAHM and my husband is a teacher. Together we have a 2 year old. My husband was diagnosed with a autoimmune disorder that causes mental fog, physical disabilities (he limps), and general a lot of medical baggage. It’s not curable but treatable. In a lot of ways I depend on my husband, I don’t drive from a deep anxiety from a family member almost dying. I plan to work from home with my bachelors degree once our child goes to school. When we had our child we did not know my husband has any disorder but we’re trying to get a diagnosis of what he was struggling with. The issue is I just don’t think my husband cares about me. Due to his illness he’s unable to do a lot of physical activities normal husbands do, like taking out the trash or mowing the lawn. He struggles to chase our toddler and is constantly half asleep. He doesn’t play with our child, he doesn’t have real conversations with me. I feel alone all day, taking care of everyone but myself. We have one car and struggle to pay bills. I feel an immense pressure to do anything and everything I can to keep my husband happy. I serve him his plate and give him seconds since I don’t want him to get up. I shave his beard and do his skin care for him. I give him his vitamins and pack his lunch. I leave little notes in his lunch saying I care. I read about his autoimmune illness and studied it to the point I know more than him. The issues in our relationship have always been horrible. I met him after therapy and healing from a cheating ex only to have him lie to me. He had a major 🌽 addiction and lied to me so often I become obsessed with proving he was always lying to me. He fell back into 🌽 while I was pregnant and still doing everything I could to keep him happy. I cooked and cleaned and never turned him down in the bedroom. He had forgotten major details for our sons first birthday. All of the issues came to a head this Mother’s Day, we’d had very little money but still wanted to buy small gifts for his family’s no mine. I made my plans for my family and he told the plans for his. I had made sentimental gifts for my husbands mom, sister, my mom and aunt. I wrote in their cards and he just had to sign them. I had to go to stores shopping for the cheapest items that still some meaning to them like his aunt loves blue and cooking so a blue pan for 10$. We had to do this last minute cuz of his paycheck being deposited just that morning. Turns out he messed up the mothers days plans and ultimates we spent the whole day give other people gifts and celebrating everyone else. I got home and cleaned up and he he put our child to sleep. I got nothing. I mean not even a card. I had asked him to have our son draw a picture for me every Mother’s Day. He forgot. I used to feel like we were a team. Now I feel like he has never really cared. I really do try to sympathize with my husband. I want a job to help but how can I do everything alone. Take on all the physical and emotional tolls that comes with taking care of our child and him. Of trying to do everything and working while also feeling so neglected. I look at him and feel only the negative things he’s done to me come up. I don’t see him the same and I don’t know if ever will. I want to love him but my self worth won’t allow me too anymore.

I unexpectedly received an Amazon gift card from work and I'm looking to pick up a non li-ion based light to keep in my car. So far the Wuben C3 seems like a great value but I've also looked at the Skilhunt M150. There could very well be some better options out there so I'm all ears if you have any recommendations, only constraint is they'll need to be sold on Amazon. Thanks!

Warning this is a long one. If anyone has seen Gilmore Girls, please picture my grandma as Emily Gilmore because I seriously don't know how they were able to capture my grandma so accurately.
This morning, I (22f) had what feels like a huge blow out with my grandma (74f) over text this morning. For a big background, I am my grandmas only living descendant. My birth mother died when I was 3 in a car accident, and she was my grandmas only child. My mother struggled with bipolar disorder and was in an abusive marriage with my father. After she died my grandparents attempted to get full custody of me and the result was visitation under grandparent rights. The court petition is available online and can be found by searching my full name, which is so great for me. Obviously, there was bad blood between my grandparents and my father. I grew up in the middle, scared to show that I loved my grandparents but also slightly distrusting of them because the stories they would tell me were different than what my father would.
I have tried to set boundaries with my grandma in the past. She calls me by my dead moms name occasionally. I ask her not to, she still slips up and does. She's inviting me to go to my moms grave, I don't feel comfortable doing that. She makes me feel guilty about no one putting flowers on their graves when they die. She's convinced I'm bi-polar despite me having been tested 3 times and being diagnosed as not bipolar. She will make passive aggressive comments about not only my but my boyfriend (23M) of 4 years weight and stretch marks. I've told her that we both struggle with eating disorders. After graduating I went from being 120lbs at 5'7 (underweight) to being 190lbs (overweight) in 4 years, some of the weight gain was healthy then the past year and a half I've put on the majority of it, becoming unhealthy. The past year and a half I have also had severe mental health struggles. I have ADHD, depression, and anxiety. I struggle to do a lot of basic things. I was seeing a therapist but then my insurance changed so I am trying to find someone new. I am on medication. I am actively getting help.
My grandma will call me 20 times in a day regularly. She'll text me more than that. When I haven't answered she has called my boyfriend at his job. She will harass my boyfriend and demand to know what I do every hour of everyday, despite him being at work apparently he's my babysitter. It is negatively impacting our relationship because he feels he's being forced into a parent role. She ruined a job interview for me one time because she wouldn't stop calling during it. I am terrified for her to show up unannounced. Luckily we live 4 hours away from each other, so I think I have a safe enough buffer. However, every weekend for the past month she has been trying to come and stay for the weekend.
Now on to the main confrontation/issue. My grandmas mom, my great grandma, offered to give me 1k a month so I could focus on finishing my degree (after this semester I have a semester & then a class left.) My only condition was that I focused on school. This morning my boyfriend sent me a text that said I needed to talk to my grandma as they were withdrawing their financial support. He sent me screenshots of their texts, I am going to transcribe them best I can without making this post too long. I feel like its getting long already lol.
GM to BF: We'll pay for her therapy. She needs talk & medicine. Her psychiatrist should do both. But the monthly 1k, so she doesn't have to work while she's getting the rest under control hasn't helped her. I'm afraid it has given her too much time alone, which is bad for her. I've worried that helping her not to have to work was a bad idea. She does much better with interaction. Maybe encourage her to come over, or take a trip with me during the next 3 weeks (my summer classes start). She needs interaction. She was much better in high school because she was so involved.
BF to GM: Will do, she has been looking at getting a summer job.
GM: Doing the monthly may be hurting more than helping. She wasn't even successful with her classes, even without the outside job. I THINK she would do things if she was here. Crafts, cards, all the extended family. Right now we're just paying her to stay home and read. I don't think the 1k will continue. It was for her to do her classes without having to work through December.
BF: I'd text her and mention that. You should talk to her SPECIFCALLY about losing the 1k.
GM: But it didn't work so why would we still do it? Classes were supposed to be her job. She completed 10 of 18 hours. She didn't do her weekly progress reports and didn't send us her finals. Never once. If that was her "job" paying her weekly, and anyone else as her boss, would she still have that job?
BF: I don't have that answer. I can't speak for her on those things.
GM: You know the answer is no. This is not helping her. This is a face to face conversation. Her story is not what I know to be the truth as I related to you.
GM: I know she lost her scholarship and just isn't telling us. I'm sure she's not proud of it. I told you earlier, that I knew she was in a bad place. That was when I needed to help her. Not after it was too late. She just said there was a cap on the amount of scholarship and she's used it. She's getting a student loan to finish. I'm proud of her for doing that instead of asking us. BUT, what I've pieced together is what I said earlier. And her loan is because she has to pay back the scholarship and tuition going forwards. Right now is the best time for her to transfer(to a college where she lives.) I knew we were in trouble when she sent me a photo of a stack of books she checked out from the library. I had zero time to read books when I was a college student, and I didn't have a job in addition.
BF: While that may be true, you also were in different classes. It's good for her to have time to do things she likes when she's not in class.
GM: I had a social life with other people. I did not stay isolated. She does well with others. Alone drags her down. Just like her mom. A powerhouse when she's involved. Depressed and anxious when she's alone. She's become totally reliant on you. She's lost her independence and drive. I know its flattering you want to be her savior, but for different reasons, its crippling for both of you.
BF: I don't want to be her savior. I really don't.
GM: Rescuer
BF: I really want more than anything for her to be self reliant so we can both lean on each other. I just know at the end of the day I will always support my girl.
GM: That's best but she has to let go & stand up. Develop a broader network to build strength, You are her core! Like a center pole in a tent. Now she needs the other stakes to have the support.
I took 14 credit hours this semester and I only dropped 1 class that was 2 credit hours because I could take it in the summer and lighten my load. I passed all my other ones with As & Bs. I misspoke to my grandma about my scholarship. I told her it was 5k and then I was out but in actuality it was 20k, 5k per semester not total. I've used 4700 so far. That still doesn't explain why she thought I had lost it but ya know. I see my friends at minimum once a week. I have 6 close friends I regularly see. I text with them daily. I grab dinner with them. I game online with them. I attend class 2 times a week. I only see my boyfriend 2 nights a week and on Sundays, and we LIVE together.
My grades conveniently became available online at the same time this conversation was sent to me. So I took a screenshot of my grades and sent them to my grandma.
OP to GM: Here are my grades. I also sent them to grandpa. Thanks so much for believing in me, not. You are the last person I want to see or talk to right now. BF showed me everything. When I am read to talk I'll let you know.
GM to BF: I cannot believe you did this. Now she is furious with me & won't talk to me. I told you that in confidence. You need to fix this. That's not good things for her to know out of context.
OP to GM: Actions have consequences. The consequence of your action is that I am not speaking to you. If you continue to message BF, I will be blocking you on his phone. Not only today, but previously, has been highly inappropriate. I am NOT a child. I do NOT need babysitting. I do NOT need rescuing by you. You are NOT my savior. Stop trying to be.
GM: *Long message trying to re-explain how the messages were worded.* I told BF you're smart and a powerhouse! I just want to see your independent spirit and get you there again. I am your biggest supporter. You're misinterpreting this.
OP: BF screenshotted everything and sent it to me before I ever said anything to you. I don't know how reading exactly what you have been saying about me is misinterpreting things. Please stop messaging me.
When I was in high school I was awake from 6:00am-2:00am. I was in 10 clubs/sports, all honors classes, I was starving myself, I slept less than 4 hours on average. I was a walking zombie that was living off a strange energy that being starving & sleep deprived creates. I was miserable. I was depressed. I was anxious. I only had time for friends in school. If you didn't have a class or lunch with me, you never talked to me. I struggled with school work at home because my adhd. I was not a powerhouse, I was fighting to survive everyday and I feel like I used up every piece of energy I'll ever have then.
This is where we left off. I feel guilty confronting my grandma about it, and feel like I should apologize. But like I said to my BF after he got upset with me for him being in the middle:
Its an incredibly overwhelming relationship that has baggage older than I am which has been put on me my entire life. It has been like this my whole life, except that until I was 18, I was the middle. I know it's a lot, but this is how she is. She is an intrusive controlling and manipulative person, while it may from from a place of care, she still is those things. Herr loving me and being kind to us does not take away the hurt and pain that she causes me. It is not care and love when there are stipulations to that care and love. She's constantly weaponizing my dead mom's mental illness against me. She wants to send me money so I don't have to work and can focus on school but when that actually helps me then I'm not nearly busy enough for her liking. She's also creating a hostile environment where I can't express if I am struggling because then it'll be "I told you so" and then I'll have to drop out of school because they'll stop providing financial support.
So reddit, AITA for confronting my grandma about her texts to my boyfriend?

I sold a pump to an inflatable hot tub. I parted the entire tub out in order to get it sold. It was all new in the box. Buyer is now saying that it is shocking them sitting in the tub without tripping the gfi on the plug it comes with or any breakers or anything. I have a hard time believing this, It feels like they are trying to get me to let them keep the pump and refund them. I took pictures of the serial numbers etc before I sent it out. Buyer is asking if I sent it out rebuilt or untested. All I did to test it was to plug it in and make sure it worked. How is the best way to handle this? I haven’t had to do any returns yet. I use pirate ship to lower my shipping costs. I understand that eBay will make me take the return. How do I purchase a label to send them? eBay’s shipping options are twice as much…. Thanks for reading

FT, see the picture in comments. Willing to trade any of the pokemon in the box. All of them are Shiny. Need 2 Cyndaquils.

Part 1
Chicago, 2016. Flinn Gerald is doing his best to make it in the city. Born in Selma, Alabama, he has spent his entire life trying to escape the ever tightening grasp of his small town. But alas, he made it out and is adapting to life in the big city. With a big fancy corporate job, an endless supply of friends, an apartment with a stunning view of the lake, and great distance from his family, what more could he need? Well, there is a lot more (or less) that he needs, but of course that is a story for later.
On a typical Tuesday night at a bar, the regulars crowd in. Flinn is late, as usual, as he stayed late at work (again), but on his arrival, the cheers and hugs from all the friends make everyone forget of the regular inconvenience. Conversation ensued, starting with all the boring finance jargon, but as the drinks flowed, so did the conversation, moving away from work and more into life. This is what everyone preferred.
“Another round, anyone?” asked Raheem, enthusiastically. After a murmur of concurrence, he stood up to make his way up to the bar. “Flinn, care to lend a hand?”
Raheem Bartlett was Flinn’s college roommate and the first person he met outside of his hometown. The pair hit it off instantly despite having wildly different backgrounds. Even in their freshman year, the engineer and the finance major would get into all sorts of trouble together, but eventually they leveled out. Six years later, they still have each other’s backs just like day one.
The pair made their way up to the bar and waited to get the bartender's attention. “What's up with you, bro?” asked Raheem. “You’ve been seeming a bit off.”
“Oh, ya know. Work, life, everything kinda happens so fast. Work has been busy as of late, and the hours long.”
Seeming displeased by this answer, Raheem stared back in concern.
“Really, I’m fine… just long hours.”
“Back in school you’d pull back to back all-nighters and then still make it to a morning class. I find it hard to believe that the mighty Flinn would be so setback by ‘long hours’.”
Flinn took a moment to ponder, staring down at the bar covered in various stamps and postcards beneath the epoxy surface. “I guess, ya know, it's not all it was cracked up to be. I guess I had expected more.” Flinn had mostly dropped his accent, but occasionally it would still slip out.
Despite coming from a long line of mill workers (mostly paper) and farm hands who never ventured further than the Dallas county line, Flinn yearned to leave his small town and conquer the world from a young age. Coming from the poorest county in Alabama, his family always squashed his dreams, labeling them as impossible. But Flinn knew better. Or, at least he knew he could do better. Graduating top of his class a year early and winning a full-ride scholarship to Northwestern University, he had proved everyone wrong and set his own path. The path he was told was impossible became his reality.
“More what?”
“Nothing, really. I mean, what more is there? This is what I always wanted, right? The stable job in the city, never having to worry about money. It’s great, and I couldn’t be more grateful, but… something is missing. Doing the same thing day after day staring at a screen, moving clients money around. I… just hoped it would be more fulfilling, especially after all it took to get here.”
Before he could finish his thought, the bartender came up to take their order: another round for the table, plus a round of shots, plus two more shots.
“What am I saying, really?” added Flinn. “I shouldn’t be complaining. Look at where I am now compared to six years ago. So much has changed. My home, friends, even my diet. I just feel a bit off. Like I need something more to do..
“I get it, bro. Adjusting to your new life can be rough. Enjoy it for a minute or two.” Raheem slides a shot in front of Flinn. “Here, take this.”
Tuesday had become fairly consistent to this point for this group of misfits: Raheem and his girlfriend Amy; Jack; Jasper, from Flinn’s firm, and his wife Max; and of course, Flinn. For nearly two years, these six have been meeting at O’Malley’s every Tuesday night for drinks and trivia. Some nights are more wild than others, but Tuesday has become the staple of the week among them.
Drinks flowed pretty regularly and heavy over the next few hours as the clock approached the end of day. Still going round for round on alternating tabs, the useless debates began to heat up.
“You can’t seriously think Wicker Park is the best neighborhood outside the Loop. Y’all need to get out more,” said Flinn.
“Bro it’s obviously Wicker Park,” argued Raheem.” Right on the blue line, getting to O’Hare is insanely easy, plus you can’t find better music in the city. Besides, Wicker Park has Davenport’s.”
“No one ever says Wicker Park,” adds Jack. “Have you ever heard someone say Wicker Park before?”
“Dude, but you can obviously get to O’Hare from anywhere in the city,” said Flinn
“Sure, but beats walking through that dumb Block 37 Center transfer like you and your red line. No transfer is the way to go, plus the blue line gets you right to the center of the loop.”
“So does every other L line as long as ya don’t mind walking a few blocks!”
“You’re both wrong,” adds Max. “Neither matters because Midway is better anyways.”
“Woah!” the whole table murmurs, sharing shocked looks as if she just confessed to a crime. Flinn rolled his eyes at this notion.
“Who flies out of Midway?” asks Raheem.
“What? Less people, cheaper flights, and more space. Why wouldn’t I fly out of Midway?” said Max.
“Wait, wait, that aside,” interrupts Raheem, “can we go back to the fact that Jasper thinks Sheffield is the best neighborhood? I feel like we moved past that too quickly.”
The debate rages on for many more minutes, until Flinn, seemingly out of nowhere, had enough.
“Can y’all just shut the fuck up! Why does it even matter?” Everyone’s glance quickly shot over to Flinn as a deafening silence overtook the table. Everyone pondered how to respond, and couldn’t seem to find an answer. This behavior from Flinn was unexpected, nay, unheard of. Flinn was the most level headed amongst them by far. Not even Raheem, his best friend of six years, had ever seen him get angry, let alone over an inconsequential friendly argument. “I…” Not even Flinn knew what to say next. “I’m going to go home. Long day tomorrow.” Already on his feet, he quickly walked away from the table and out the door.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The walk home was fairly brisk, but Flinn had grown fond of the cold. He tucked his hands into his coat pocket and hunched his shoulders forward, only looking down at the pavement ignoring the mostly asleep but still wide awake city surrounding him. His thoughts ran wild and near out of control. Of course, his intoxication did not help with clarity, but the inner dialogue was deafening. Not even he knew what was bothering him, but he was obviously bothered, deeply. He made a fool of himself in a way he never had before, and right now he felt he did not recognize himself. Surely some sleep will help, right?
He slowly made his way down the steps to the platform, carefully watching each step as to not fall, to wait for his train. He posted up against a pillar and stared off onto the dark, empty tracks. What has gotten into me? He did his best to calm his racing, wasted mind searching for some legibility amongst his thoughts.
Once he finally got home, he slumped down on the couch and scarfed down some week-old sushi he found in the fridge. He turned on some old documentary and was asleep before he knew it.
Suddenly, he was woken up by his phone ringing. It usually does not ring this time of night and was less than thrilled to be woken, so he let it keep ringing. It stopped after a couple of seconds, and he glanced down at the screen:
Mama
(2) missed calls
Dad
(1) missed call
Now concerned, he calls his mom back in a hurry. “Hello?”
“Flinn? Your grandfather, he’s dead.”
Part 2
The wet air engulfed Flinn’s face as he stepped out the airport doors into a warm February day. Six years had passed since he smelled the Alabama air. Even after all this time, it still smells just as he had remembered as if not even a day had passed. The drive to Selma was another ninety minutes, and despite having five days to mentally prepare himself for his arrival, it was not nearly enough time. He had not seen or spoken to anyone from his town, not even family, since he left early that August morning all those years ago. He left everything behind to start his new life. The life so many told him to not start, that he needed to stay. He left anyway and never looked back.
That was, until now. He had little choice in this regard. He knew he would have to make his return someday, but he knew not when nor for what. But today was that day. Flinn and his grandfather (Pops) had always been close. If anyone had been supportive of him, it’d have been Pops, but he was a man of little words. Even when he could talk, he hardly chose to. He was a great listener, and not just because he could not speak. He showed he was engaged and listening no matter what Flinn had to say. At times, he felt Pops was the only one who understood him as if he had been just like him before, but no one would ever talk about his past. All Flinn knew is Pops lost his tongue after a failed lynching.
The familiarity of the scenery zipping past was bittersweet. He had not realized how much he missed the rolling hills and thick forests beneath the unforgiving southern sky. He kept his head pressed against the cool glass of the car window even through the constant bumps in the road. He couldn’t look away. So many memories happened here, and the closer he got, the more plentiful the memories became, and the more potent they were, and the more painful they’d become.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the dust settled behind him, he stood on the driveway staring at his childhood home still unsure how to process his emotions. It was all so overwhelming. He was thinking everything at once. He took a deep breath, rolled back his shoulders, and swallowed. He reached for the door handle, hesitating slightly, and took a step in. One foot, and then the next.
“Martin!” Flinn smiled as his old friend and childhood dog rushed towards him without hesitation. He knelt down and embraced him as Martin excitedly rustled through his arms seemingly showing more energy than he had in years.
He walked down the hall and around the corner into the living room. There, both drawn to the large television like moths to a flame, he saw his parents sitting beside one another on the couch watching some daytime program with their backs to him. They seemed to pay no notice to the commotion at the front door nor the loud creaking footsteps he took along the old wooden floors. They knew he was there; they just chose to ignore him. He walked into view to greet them. "Mama, dad." His father smiled slightly but caught himself and refrained.
Mama kept a straight face, but seemed to be fighting tears."Howard, help Flinn with his bags, dear."
“No, it's alright, I know where to take them,” said Flinn. “How are y’all?”
“Service is tomorrow at eleven down at the ole First Baptist Church. Make sure to wear something nice.”
“Alright, mama. I’ll... I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Whole family is coming tonight. Dinner is served at...”
“At seven, I got it, just as always.”
“It’s good to see you, kid.” said his dad. “Let me know if you need anything”
He did not expect things to go like that, not that he knew what to expect. He had hoped time would have been more forgiving. Perhaps leaving unannounced in the middle of the night was not the best plan, but at the time he felt as if he had no other choice. Everyone knew he was leaving. That was no secret and had not been for years before any plan had actually been set into motion. No one knew the date or time, except for Pops, of course, but he’d never tell. Of course he wanted everyone to know. He wanted everyone to be proud of him, but it was too big of a risk and commendations were too much to expect. Besides, Mama always had her schemes, and had she known, she would have found a way to stop him.
Not much had changed since he’d been here last. The old wood paneling still lined nearly all the walls, crack in some spots, replaced in others, but all coated by decades of cigarette soot. On the walls were a combination of family portraits from over the years and cheap artwork found at the flea market. Old green furniture, too many house plants to count, and a tacky themed kitchen, it was all still the same.
His childhood bedroom, however, was much different. Hardly even recognizable, what was once his bedroom was now a storage room filled with endless shelves and boxes. He set his things on the lonely cot in the corner, sat down, and took it all in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Not realizing he had drifted off, Flinn awoke and looked at the clock. 6:55. Convenient. He sat up and brushed his hair down with his hand as he suspected it was sticking up in the usual way. He rubbed his eyes and made his way to the dining room. The whole family was there, probably about twenty people or so, all scattered about throughout the kitchen, dining room, and living room engaged in various conversations. His nana, aunt, and Mama were cooking away putting the final touches on the large meal.
“Well if it isn’t this fucker…” said a familiar voice to his left, laughing. Flinn looked over to see his cousin who’s just a year younger than him.
“DeAndre, how are you?”
“Never thought I’d see you again, even since you left. Thought maybe you ‘ood be dead.”
“Nah,” Flinn laughed. “Still very much alive.”
“I can see dat. Wearin’ your fancy suit and all.”
“Yeah I’ve been doing pretty well. Work has been… good. I have a great job at a finance firm in Chicago. Everything has been… Good. Yeah, good. How about you?”
“Now you ain’t goin’ city on us, are you?”
Flinn laughed. “I think I might already be.”
Just as dinner was finishing up, a line started to form and people found a seat wherever they could, be it at the table, on the couch, near the counter, or outside.
“Flinn!” his dad called out. “I saved ya a seat here at the table, kid.”
Flinn took his seat right next to his dad which positioned him right across from Mama. The table could sit eight, and the seats filled in pretty quickly so he was lucky to get one. Besides his sister, all of the oldest family members took the other four chairs.
The dinner itself was mostly uneventful, except for the food of course which was extraordinary. Flinn had not eaten Mama’s cooking, or anything like it in six years. The southern food in Chicago was alright, but nothing like what you can get down here, and no restaurant is going to have the same quality and taste as a home-cooked meal. By God, he had not realized how much he needed this. It was almost healing, like a part of his soul had been lost and he found it once again. The last week had been incredibly overwhelming, and last Saturday he never foresaw being here now, but he was glad he was, regardless of the looming tension. All the stress from work and life back home in Chicago was now all gone. All he had to worry about was… oh yeah, the family drama. The dreaded interactions, what he had suppressed for so long, that had kept him up at night for years. All those long nights doing homework or anything else beside sleeping. They had not been by choice but rather necessity. He would have slept more if he could, and some of those nights he really needed to, but instead was kept motivated by the pain. The pain of knowing no matter what he did, no matter how successful in life he became, he would never be good enough for his family, good enough for Mama, because he left them.
If there ever was a time to clear his conscience and get everything out of the way, it would be today, or at least over the next couple of days. When else would he have the chance? Not that any of this had been planned, and his therapist would probably advise against it. She did not even know he was here. What would she have to say? Avoiding conflict has always been his choice. He has always been quiet, never been at the center of drama, but some things need to be said. Just, maybe not by him. If he waited long enough, perhaps they would come up on their own. So he decided to wait, but he knew time was limited and he could not wait forever.
“Mama, could you pass the butter?”
Mama just stared back at him. “Get ya own damn buttah, since ya can do everything else on ya own.”
Flinn stands up and reaches for the butter. “I can do everything myself, and I have. I hope you’re proud, Mama.”
“Proud? What do I have to be proud of?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe my job, my degree, everything I have been able to do to build a good life for myself.”
“I don hear anything worthy of praise.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mama.”
“Oh, so now you’re sorry? You could’ve fooled me. Is that how you felt when you left? Unbelievable.”
“I left because I had no other choice.”
“Oh don go lyin’ to me now. You did have a choice. You had a choice and you chose to leave us. You didn’t say goodbye, and you were just gone in the mornin’.”
“If I had not just left, you would’ve stopped me.”
“Cause you ain’t got no reason to go nowhere.”
“I had plenty of reasons to want to leave, and not because of you. I’ve always had dreams, Mama, ya know that. I’ve always been bigger than just this town.”
“Oh, so now you’re too good for us, city boy? Huh? I don wanna hear no more of it.”
“It wasn’t about that, Mama. Look at all I’ve been able to do.”
“I ain’t see nothin’. You never call and you never visit. How am I supposed to know what you been doin’?”
“I thought you didn’t want me coming around any more?”
“Well, you’ve got that right. Glad to see you still have some brains left.”
“Well excuse me. Maybe it's best if I leave again. Sorry I ain’t make you proud, Mama.” Flinn got up and left the table.
Part 3
Just as the early light began to peak through the blinds, Flinn was woken up by a firm knock at his door. “Flinn, may I come in? It's Uncle Terrence.”
Flinn sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Yep, come in.”
“How are you this morning, kid? Ya know, she’ll never admit it, but ya Mama missed ya.”
“I find it hard to believe.” Deep down Flinn knew it was true, but she was hard as a rock, and arrogant. She would always find a way to be right, even when she knew she was wrong, and she would never let you know she knew she was wrong.
“Well, we’re all proud of you, kid.” Flinn hated when Terrence and everyone called him kid. “Just wish yoo’d come around and see us every once in a while. I know ya busy with all the big city stuff and all.”
“I thought no one wanted anything to do with me any more?”
“At first, maybe, but I miss ya, kid. Ya know who missed ya most of all?”
“Pops?”
“Yes, of course. He always wanted to know about ya, every time I’d come round. He couldn’t call, but always wanted me to.”
“I should have called.”
“I think everyone wanted to call, but as time went on, it became harder and harder to push that button. It was already so hard at first, and only got harder.”
“I thought about everyone a lot, especially at first. Leaving was really hard, and I almost didn’t, but I always wanted more. I didn’t want to spend my whole life in this town, and if I had not left when I did I probably never would have. But it was still hard. I wanted to go home so many times, but I convinced myself no one wanted me here no more or that y’all would’ve said ‘I told ya so’ or sum bullshit. No one wanted me around any more and I had left, so I was stuck on the path I chose. And I’m happy, and I’ve done so much, but it’s never been easy.”
“Pops was a lot like you when he was your age. Set on leaving as quickly as he could. Things were different back then, not that they are any better now, but Hank... my brother… Pops, was just like you.”
“What changed?”
“Well, he never did. Just no one talks about it anymore. After what happened on that day, they blamed his behavior. Said he should’ve played it safe and he’d still have his tongue.”
“No one has ever told me the story.”
“And they won’t. It changed the whole family.”
“But you’ll tell me?”
“Only if you promise not to tell. I don need an earful from ya Mama.”
“I promise.”
“Hank couldn’t be confined to Selma, just like you. He joined the army right out of high school, and after he was done in Lebanon, he didn’t go straight home.”
“Where did he go?”
“Everywhere but here. He used the small amount of money he got from the army and went anywhere that would let him in. Across Europe, parts of Asia, Northern Africa, even parts of South America. Of course, a young black man traveling by himself at the time was challenging, but Hank could hold his own pretty well. He still ran into all sorts of trouble. He spent more nights in jail than he would have liked, but he would have done it all again if he could.”
“What happened when he got back?”
“He was much different, but for the better. He couldn’t wait to get back out there again. He had confidence like I had never seen before. That’s what got him in trouble not too long after.”
“How’d he lose his tongue? I’m guessing that is what changed everything.”
“When he got back, he got involved with a girl, I think her name was Susan. She was the mayor’s daughter. They snuck around for a while. Their relationship was not acceptable, especially to her father. If he found out, Hank would be in a lot of trouble, and of course eventually he did find out. He spent about a month in jail in just awful conditions even for the time. They didn’t have anything to hold him on so eventually they had to let him go. About a week after he got out, he was walking downtown and some guys grabbed him. He took him out to a field and tried to lynch him. Luckily, they failed and he survived, but they took his tongue as a warning. He was never the same after that. All of his confidence was gone, and of course he couldn’t speak no more.”
Flinn did not know how to respond. It all made sense now: why the family so desperately wanted him to stay, why they were so hurt by him leaving, and why they’d feared who he was becoming. They were all traumatized and wanted to protect him. They did not want him to suffer the same fate as Pops.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The funeral itself was fairly uneventful and went nearly as perfectly as expected. The church filled in with hardly any empty seats, tears were shed, and speeches were given. Pops touched the lives of almost everyone he met, and they came to show it. After the service was the reception, and yet again, the food was spectacular. Everyone got along just fine today and there was no more residual drama, at least for now. Today was Pops’ day.
After the reception, the family gathered back at Mama’s house for the reading of the will. Pops did not have many possessions, at least not of monetary value, but what he did have was meaningful in other ways. He was very clear on who he wanted to give off, and handpicked what would be most substantial to each person.
Everyone gathered around much as they did at dinner, and the lawyer began his reading:
I, Hank Gerald, a resident in the City of Selma, County of Dallas, State of Alabama, being of sound mind, not acting under duress or undue influence, and fully understanding the nature and extent of all my property and of this disposition thereof, hereby make, publish, and declare this document to be my Last Will and Testament, and hereby absolutely revoke any and all other wills and amendments previously made by me.
The reading went on for some time as there were many beneficiaries. Flinn began to daydream about what could be left for him. Flinn was not a very sentimental person, so trinkets and heirlooms paid him little interest. Perhaps his car, or maybe money. Something that will be useful to him.
To my dear brother, Terrence, I leave my 1964 Pontiac GTO and all tools and parts associated and necessary with/for the running and upkeep of the vehicle.
The further down the list he went, less was given, but this is to be expected. As the end of the list neared, Flinn began to wonder what would be left for him if anything at all. The will had been in order of age, to this point, so he should be up soon.
To my Granddaughter, Nia,...
Nia? She's younger than me… Flinn thought.
I leave her my grandmother’s locket containing a picture of my Grandfather before he left for the Great War. She looked at it everyday to keep the memory of him alive until he eventually returned to her alive.
How could he skip me? Perhaps I should have called, or never left. Flinn got lost in his own thoughts and barely paid attention to the rest of the will. He and Pops were so close, and he never imagined he would be taken out of the will. But that is my own fault, afterall. I left, and I never even care to call. He died, and I never even said goodbye.
Just as Flinn began to accept the consequences of his actions, they got to the last beneficiary listed in the will:
Finally, to my oldest Grandson, Flinn, who is more and more like me than I ever could have wished to have been, I leave my journal. I hope whenever you need the motivation, you read it to find the meaning you are looking for in life.
Part 4
Flinn sat at his desk unable to focus. It was fairly slow for a Friday, but he still had work to do. After a chaotic weekend back home in Alabama, he was ready to settle back into his monotonous routine. The experience had been healing in some regards, but still left a lot unanswered. What did he mean by finding the meaning in life? Flinn wondered as he flipped through the endless pages of Pops’ journal, all filled with endless recounts, drawings, symbols, and pictures from his travels, just as he had since Monday. The journal consumed his whole attention, and nothing else seemed important enough to focus on. He had even ditched his friends all week which he never does.
He is supposed to meet Raheem for drinks tonight, but now he is wondering if he even wants to go. There is just too much in his head right now. He just wants to be alone. 12:37. The clock is moving too slowly. Flinn clears his calendar for the rest of the day and decides to go home.
At home, he still finds himself flipping through the pages of the journal, not even reading them but just looking at them. Again and again, he flips through until he has enough. He drops the journal on his lap and stares off into the distance at the gorgeous view of Lake Michigan. The endless city and skyline take up most of the horizon until it just stops, cut off by the endless ocean-like lake. He stares at it for quite a while until something catches his eye. He has seen this before. Well, of course he has. He lives here and this is his view everyday. But he knows he has seen it somewhere else.
He picks the journal back up and flips through in a hurry. There it is. He holds the journal up to the window to show a matching two-page drawing of this exact view. Well, not exact. It is a slightly different angle, but it was close enough. Pops was here. He would have loved visiting. I should have invited him. This made Flinn sad, and he threw the journal down on the table in frustration.
Just then, that is when he noticed it. There was a page sticking out from the journal, but it was not like the rest. The page was white and pristine, aside from a few wrinkles, as if it was new, whereas the rest of the journal showed its age. He rushed over to grab it. He opened it to find a letter, addressed to him:
Grandson, When you left, I knew that you would accomplish everything you set out to do. I also knew, however, you would find yourself lost someday, returning home for answers. I was hoping I’d be able to give you those answers myself, but as time goes on that seems less likely. I too found myself lost, and I knew not why. I had gone and seen the world, and it changed me, but I was still not fulfilled. I came home still looking for the answers, and it took a while, but eventually I did find them.
Through this journal, I hope to share my findings so that you too, when you are lost, find the answers you seek. Whenever you are ready, follow my journey and the clues I have left for you. Go out and see the world, just as I did. You will find that what you want from life is less than what you expect.
I hope the experiences you have are less harsh than my own, but still be careful. The world has changed a lot, but still not enough. But don’t skip ahead for the meaning may be lost. Take only one step at a time, and when it comes time to take the next step, it will reveal itself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seven o’clock rolls around and Flinn walks into the bar to meet Raheem. He hasn’t seen Raheem, or anyone else from the group, since last Tuesday when he had his outburst. He begins by telling the story of the events of this last weekend, but leaves out the parts about Pops’ past.
"Pops left me a hidden letter.”
“What do you mean?” asked Raheem.
“Like in his journal, I found a hidden letter. It was addressed to me.”
“What did it say, bro?”
“He says he was a lot like me when he was my age. He wants me to go where he went and learn what he did.”
“In Alabama?”
“No, everywhere but there. He wants me to start in Western Europe and follow his clues around the world.”
“He traveled?”
“A lot, apparently. I never knew. He was in the army, and after he got out, he traveled… everywhere, basically.”
“Why did no one tell you?”
“They wanted to keep me safe, I guess.
"They wanted to keep the whole family safe after what happened to him.”
“What do you mean, bro. What happened?”
“I can’t talk about it, but it doesn’t matter now anyways. I’m living a different life now.” Flinn never shared much about his past or his family with anyone, not even Raheem. It has always been a mystery. This was the most he had ever shared with him.
“Well, are you going to go?”
“No, I can’t. I have work. It took too much to get here. I can’t just give it away.”
“It’ll still be here when you get back, bro.”
“If only it was that simple.”
“It can be. You have money saved up. Chicago isn’t going anywhere. We’re not going anywhere. Plus, you’ve always talked about traveling more. Why don’t you take some time to do it.”
“I suppose, but I like my life here.”
“If you don’t do it now, when will you? You’ve taken a leap before, why not take another one. You’re smart, you’ll land on your feet, bro. Besides, your grandfather thought it was important enough to not only give you his journal, but hide you a letter for you to find when you needed it most. Maybe now is when you needed it most. You’re way too stressed at work anyways, and I can tell you’ve been off for a while now. Perhaps some change could give you what you need.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On Monday morning, when Flinn gets to work, he walked straight to his boss's office. He turned in his letter of resignation.
Two weeks later, he took the red line to the blue line to O’Hare. Journal in hand, he boarded a flight to Dublin.

Was joining the interstate in a line of traffic, car next to me didn’t move over, the car in front of me took the space in front of that car while the people behind me took available space behind. I had no safe place to pull over as my lane ended and right as it does there is the start of a guard rail, bridge column, light posts, grass ditch and trees. It would’ve been a very tight fit if I had even been able to. Slowing and/or stopping wasn’t much of an option when you’ve got a line of cars behind you continuously speeding up and taking available merging space behind you. That seemed very unsafe.
I tried to brake to slow down enough and try to squeeze behind but ended up making contact. Very minor damage, other car wasn’t dented, only a tiny bit of paint/dirt transfer that comes off if you scratch it with your nail. My car had a tiny dent that can easily be popped out. I made sure to take pictures of any damage.
In any case, the cop decided that just exchanging insurance info wasn’t enough and I got a $208 citation for it. This is my first ever ticket or any sort of citation, so otherwise my record is clean.
Is it possible I could go to the court and have the ticket reduced or even dismissed? Or is it my only option to just have to pay the ticket and be done with it?