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August 17, 2003

She was not built to cover long distances, not built to be pushed between offices, not built to go dangerously close to staircases, not constructed to roll in and out of meetings in and out of bathrooms. She was not built to be touched by feet, or the head, the face. She always hoped that she would never have to be touched by large areas of naked, more than warm skin (and even this happened more than once). It was all too much really, seriously not part of what she was told she would need to endure when she was manufactured.
What she also did not know of was the slight weakens in one of her five legs. There must have been a bubble in the material perhaps, something that could have happened a long time ago, long before she was actually built? She would not really call it a flaw, more of a hidden secret issue...
And maybe the issue would have never turned into a problem, had she not been put through such strains and wild movements, such unexpected attacks onto her actually pretty well designed core.
So the leg snapped off, it simply broke off, in a moment of incredible, unpredicted stress. She fell, then fell down, down the stairs, tumbling, hitting something, someone, something somehow, somebody again?, down a long, long bank of stairs, slow, fast, slow, fast, slow again.
Things turned quiet as quickly as they had turned violent... she somehow felt comfort in finally not having to move... for an entire night... half a day.
She was found by a cleaning person. There were screams.
Hands arrived, she was given as much attention as everybody else involved.
She spent months in the offices of an insurance agent, next to other pieces of injured furniture. She was stared at, examined, scratched, parts were extracted from her, she was ready to die.
She was then moved into yet another room . She stayed there for the longest time. Maybe a year or so, maybe ten years? It definitely felt this long, maybe longer.
It was not until much, much later that she was picked up again.
She never understood why she was being rescued in such elaborate ways, at night, quietly. Oddly enough, she was not discarded... she was not put into one of those destructive trucks she heard about... and, frankly, was very afraid of.
She was given a new set of legs... shiny, polished. Her soft parts were shampooed, vacuumed, cleaned. The wood was polished, and so was the chrome...
It was all a very mysterious set of events.
Nobody ever sat on her again... but she felt complete, quiet... maybe a tiny bit confused... so incredibly happy...



Hmm... : )

Posted by: Witold Riedel on August 20, 2003 09:48 PM
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