Speaking of Things

Dusty Old Book In The Bookshelf

Why do you look so sad, new one? He loved you, he held your every word sacred, he could not stop gushing about you, he couldn’t put you down until that last page…

Ohh I see. You are now one of us. Relegated to the dusty shelves where no one is ever touched again, let alone be swooned over. 

Today, it has been fifteen years since he held me. He hasn’t thought about my words that had once nourished his soul. He doesn’t even remember my name.

And now that you have found your place here, alongside all our dusty little friends, you are now just a part of this collective display he will show off.

But let me tell you a little secret.

Before he put you in here, you have seeped into his very being and changed him forever. Just like the rest of us. All of us make him.

We may get old and dusty and die here, little friend. But in him, we will always be alive and shining.

-Dusty old book in the bookshelf

Speaking of Things

Thick Rim Glasses

As I got old, I felt more and more useless. I would sit in the shop, trying to look proper, but they always chose my younger, slimmer and shinier colleagues. After a few years, even the courtesy glances stopped. No one cared if I was around. And I was beginning to make my peace with it when she happened.

She was young and beautiful. She wore jeans with holes and strode confidently into the shop. She looked around for hardly a minute and came straight toward me. Suddenly I was very self-conscious. I was fat, stocky and rather conspicuous. So when she raised her hand and touched me, I was so shy I trembled violently and fell down. She gently picked me up, straight to her eyes, and turned toward the mirror. In there, I saw the brightest smile I have ever seen. She really liked me! And just like that, we walked out together.

I think there is more left for me here then. Never thought I would say this- God bless fashion!!

-Thick rim glasses

Speaking of Things

Bedroom Pillow

He hasn’t been home for over a month. His blanket has been rolled and stuffed away in the cupboard, his wardrobe locked with all his clothes still inside and a small photo of his put on the bedside table… She never looks at the photo. She comes to bed but doesn’t sleep. I wait all night, but I don’t hear her voice. And every morning she gets out of bed looking as though she has aged many years.

With him, she was different. She would laugh hysterically one moment and sob wildly the next. And I hated him every time he made her cry. Today, however, I wish he did. For her sake, I wish she held me and cried all night…

-Bedroom pillow