Signs You Are Missing All The Signs

Deputy Editor Bethany Sharman explores the consequences of ignored romantic signs and road signage.

You drop everything to check that DM she finally sent you after you’ve been on delivered for the past 6 days. 

Turns out she just liked the message (unfortunate, considering the last message you sent was a question), and you wonder if it might be worth double texting.

As you debate whether to ask a follow-up question, you miss your exit on the highway and begin a direct route into the foothills of the nearest mountain range. 

In the dark, you notice a “bigfoot crossing” sign which you think looks suspiciously like a silhouette of the Beatles’ Abbey Road. 

You decide it would be worth sending another text, so you ask her what brand her microwave is. Feeling flushed, you unbutton the top button of your dress shirt and wind down the window for some fresh air. 

A foul odour assaults your nostrils almost immediately, and you worry it might be you, though you’re 65% positive you put on deodorant that morning. 

In your nervousness, you almost don’t see the large, man-shaped forms in the middle of the road. You swerve to avoid them but inevitably crash into an anomalous tree structure a few metres to the side. 

You are rescued from the wreck by a stranger who carries you in his arms into the surrounding forest, following tracks in the dirt. You assume, in your dazed, half-conscious state, that they must have been made by some rather big feet. 

The stranger nurses you back to health in his log cabin, and you begin a friendship founded on your mutual relationship troubles. You lie on his couch, while he sits in an adjacent armchair and grunts, “How does that make you feel?” every few minutes. He then shows you the Patterson-Gimlin film. 

You start to think maybe that “bigfoot crossing” sign wasn’t a mere commercial gimmick planted by the area’s cryptid tourism industry. You check your DMs for the sixteenth time that day to distract yourself with the more plausible scenario that your chances with her might be rejuvenated by loyalty to a shared microwave brand. 

When you and your car are at last fit to travel, your new friend sends you on your way with a printed selfie he took of the two of you when you were on your deathbed four days ago. On the back reads the message, “Just let it go bro.” 

You think he means the photograph, so when you return home you donate it to a small local charity shop. When the owner’s mouth falls open at the image, you shrug and say, “Yeah, the accident was pretty bad… say, is that a Panasonic microwave?” 

by Bethany Sharman