A Picasso print was stolen years ago.

Gone. Vanished. Goodbye, Picasso.

Then suddenly, it reappeared hanging in a vacant Milwaukee apartment.

Which raises several important psychological questions.

First: Who hangs stolen art in an empty apartment?

Second: How does a Picasso casually re-enter the storyline years later like nothing happened?

And third: Are we sure reality is as linear as we think it is?

Because sometimes life feels less like a carefully plotted narrative and more like there are alternate timelines running alongside ours, and every once in a while something slips through.

A person you haven’t thought about in twenty years calls.

A lost photograph turns up in a drawer.

You find something you were absolutely certain was gone forever.

Or apparently, a stolen Picasso materializes on the wall of an abandoned apartment.

Maybe nothing actually disappears.

Maybe it just gets temporarily misplaced in another dimension.

Honestly, I’d like to know where they’re keeping my missing socks.