My friend, Rob, retired last year.
Like my previously retired friends, Rob has attempted to rub it in with photographs of his endless vacation.
But unlike my previously retired friends, who send me photos of picturesque golf courses and idyllic swimming holes, Rob is not nearly as good at hurting me as the rest.
Look at the photos he sent on the first day of school.
These are scary.
Cloudy, solitary beaches.
A dead tree.
An empty boardwalk.
A buzzard?
I’m worried about Rob. He seems a little mentally unsteady. Unimaginably sad. Perhaps filled with longing and regret. Unstable.
When I attempted to taunt Rob about the ineffectiveness of these photos, his reply was this:
It’s worse than I thought.
