“Oh, how sad.” Baboon closed the door on his empty mailbox for the fourth day in a row. “For a while there I felt like I really mattered to someone.”
“Will you come on?” Baboon encouraged Puma. “The train will leave without us whether your feet hurt on not. I told you to wear your walking shoes not your Sunday-go-to-meeting clogs.”
Baboon examined his magazine in vain; the little subscription cards always drove him insane.
Baboon put a friendly arm around Puma’s neck and remarked, “So, this is London.”