On the day I write this, exactly two months have passed since Placement Day. Which means it has also been two months since the Great F Heist of 2025.

The symbol for “Coexist” reflects a flat, almost corporate, “All Are Welcome Here,” slightly millennial ideal of intersectionality focused on mutual religious respect. It is often seen on lawn signs or bumper stickered on a Prius. I came up with the idea to paint this logo onto a bed sheet and hang it as a banner during Placement Day. It would be a hilarious spoof, I thought, on girls in four distinct types of themed garb coming together to frolic at Armfield one February afternoon.

My roommate and I traced the design onto the bedsheet using a projector, pinning the bedsheet to a whiteboard on first Chambers. We finished our work in Union Station on the eve of Placement Day, coloring “Coexist” in navy blue and writing the eating house initials in their respective colors beneath. Then, we signed our piece of art: F 102.

It was glorious.

However, sometime between a Kappa Sigma sophomore passing out on a couch right outside our living room and the time we woke up wanting Taco Bell, the banner had mysteriously disappeared. Before the day was even out, before F raged half-heartedly into the night, Coexist had ceased to exist. 

We have a few theories. One is that the apartment above us took it. Someone told us they had it, but when we asked them, they denied the claims. Perhaps the person that dropped that hint is deflecting. Perhaps it’s a friend in disguise, playing the longest-running and most heartbreaking prank ever. Maybe someone Placement Dayed too hard and hid it somewhere, never to be seen again.

Unfortunately, our theories have gotten us no closer to reclaiming our treasure. We now wish to make a public call for information related to our precious, hilarious Coexist banner. We beg for hints, for clues, for glimpses of a lame-joke-turned-serious art project turned missing memory. Help us find it. If you have it, we humbly ask you to come forward. Drop it off at F 102. We live among insanity. Let us have this.

Not satire,

The Residents of F 102