My life is bound to this piece of plastic. All my desires, my triumphs, my strifes are recorded in the pits and scars on the white body. I try to take good care of it, but for the amount of abuse I have subjected this to, it's in quite good shape.
This strange shape isn't a novelty item, though. No Bakelite, no rotary dials, bells, or whistles. It once was common as could be if you looked in the right places. Now, not so much. It has value now.
Not just monetary value, either. The emotions that it evokes is on an entirely different plane. While I protect this hunk of plastic, the room that I earned sits in ruin. This... is all the remaining humanity that I have remaining. I cherish it so very much, but it can only exist for so long before it slips away.
And that is my primary fear. My one and only fear. All other emotions have been purged from me, in this hell that I have caged myself in. Scatter the thought that the colorful buttons here malfunction. That in itself would be a blow so great that I would not consider myself alive at this point. So much loss has befallen me already, and I don't need more rubble to fall on me. My frail building will only sustain so much damage before tumbling to ruin.
It's about time that I inject myself with some happiness, remind myself what it is to feel the full spectrum of emotion.
...wait. No. This cannot be. The metal button won't register. I can't even begin to feel happy anymore. I won't begin to feel happy anymore.
I think it's time for me to roll the Russian die for me and me alone.
Sidenote: if you can guess the object that the story revolves around, I'll dedicate the next story I write to you. Whatever this is... a tone poem without a poem or tones. Still has words, though.
By GuiedGui
