His whole life was a series of blandly Facebookable events thereafter, a roulette wheel of wine parties and coffee-tasting classes, all the while socking away money for a house he'd never truly own and a car he'd only take to and from work. Those road trips across the country would have to wait. Those plans would have to be put up on the brand new Crate & Barrel shelves. Those dreams would have to wither and die, like the mint plants he absent-mindedly bought at Trader Joe's for mojito mixers that never formalized due to friends being unable to find a sitter. The only project he'd complete would be telling other people about the projects he was going to complete. As the years dragged on and the deck became more in need of a staining that would never come, the only loop left for him to close was his timely, average, Facebookable death. A blue-bordered slice of oblivion, tucked nicely into a news feed, which garnered 35 likes and one comment that was a picture of Kevin Hart eating popcorn with the words "I'm just here for the comments."