Answer:
What is the purpose of my life? Just to be an object? Used by people? Will I just live my life this same way? Years after years, barely noticed. I have been sitting on these shelves, watching other objects being taken off the shelves and replaced by others. They dont know the pain of living on the shelf for years. They don't know the suffering I have endured.
I watch people come and go, happy couples, joyous children, somber old women and men. All looking for a friend, a companion, why won't they ever choose me? I know Im old, my numbers have faded. My hands are crooked and my eyes are dreary. But like everyone else I just want someone by my side.
As usual, I watched the door. Waiting, just waiting. The door swung open, a small bell jingled, and cool air from the outside rush in. With it came a little dog. I watched as it ran to my table, knocking me to the floor. It then picked me up in its mouth and ran. I heard the store owners cry, getting softer as the pup gained speed. I felt some pain in my sides, where the teeth dug into the wood, but now I was free.
Explanation:
