All isolated and dusted, it feels like my legs are catching fungus. Nobody’s around to wipe off the dirt from me, to drag me out of this humid ambiance. Perhaps it’s the time of departure from the world, extremely desolating. Indeed twenty years was not a small time, but not my lastingness developed any feeling in his heart? I wonder. Giving comfort was my ambition ever since. When he cried, complaining, my gentle lap brought him to sleep. “But why would human care? I m just a chair!” .This similar treatment their old parents receive, the incomparable comparison tranquilizes me.
She feels… (A 100 word story)