In an attempt to clear out the clutter that is our apartment, I did something that was very difficult:
I left my fan in the street.
Now, it was a tough decision, but it had to be done. The apartment was packed to the gills with stuff and a few people gave me new fans recently, so it had to go. Sorry Dad.
I never saw who took it. I left it on the corner and walked down the street. When I turned back it was gone. Maybe the guy on the bike got it. Maybe that grey Mazda turned the corner and crushed it into oblivion. Maybe a sweaty man more that half a century old solved a family dimemma. These are all strong possibilites, but I have a feeling that somebody else swooped in and got his grimy little hands on it. Somebody extremely dangerous and stealth-like. Perhaps evil.