I turn the corner and let out a primal scream. Then I take off my shoe and hurl it in rage. People look at me but then realize I’m a tourist and ignore me.
My girlfriend walks up. “What the— oh, it’s that pattern again.”
“It’s stalking me!” I wail. “It’s not argyle, it’s not plaid but I keep seeing it. The socks, the wallpaper, the hipster’s vest, that one Pinterest page, and now . . . this!”
“Just go ask,” she says.
I finally find an English speaker. “I don’t know its name,” the woman says. “We just found it on Pinterest.”