Zebulon Dak wrote:
Somebody should write some fan fiction about that chair's post-purpose existence.
A One-Trick Pony
It was still dark inside the warehouse, but that was okay. The darkness hid her tears better. And that meant the magician's saw box couldn't see her cry. She couldn't handle that. The saw box went out all the time. Sometimes the date was with a different assistant, but they were always with the magician.
It wasn't neglect; it was just anticipation, just waiting, at least that's what she told herself to quell the tears. He'd be back. The second she'd felt his thighs pressing against her, felt him ease into her, she knew it would last forever. And it would. It was just a bit longer between dates than she'd like.
No one liked a guy that was too pushy, one who called back too soon after the first date. That wasn't the sign of a nice man, and the magician was a nice man. He'd been nice to her. Oh, how he'd been nice!
The door creaked open at once, and yellow light flooded the room. He was back. He'd come back for her, just as she'd known he would. She trembled in anticipation.
But he wasn't there for her after all. He was there for the saw box again. She watched silently as he wheeled the saw box out of the room, turned off the light, and shut the door. She sighed. Would he never come for her? Would she sit, neglected there, destined to wait for the rest of her life? Had she been nothing more than a one-trick pony, a quick fling that was never meant to last? Had she been so quickly discarded? It couldn't be. It shouldn't be. She felt the cold pang of jealousy wash over her. And another emotion she had never felt before: anger. She longed to feel his touch, just one more time. He should be hers.
And he would be. Some day he would be hers. No matter what it took. No matter what she had to do. He would be back again, and when he returned, she'd be waiting.
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