Aluredian 37
much time, care and effort is put into
finding that one card that will prove to
their other half how much they are loved.
Finally, and this was the most endearing
of them all, was the small minority of
people that were buying this one card
which could make them happy forever, or
ruin all of their chances. Having given up
hope on all other methods, they are
making a final attempt at showing this
oblivious person how much they are
cared for.
Just as I was beginning to give up hope
on ever being bought, a teenage boy
wandered into the aisle that caught my
attention. There wasn't anything
particularly special to look at, it was just
his manner; the embarrassment of being
there, although present, was stifled by
the even stronger sense of love emitting
from his being. As I watched him, I
could see the care in his eyes, the lowlying
sense of worry, the fear of rejection,
all overpowered by the incredible amount
of love he possessed for that one special
person.
Then, in a moment that came and left as
quickly as lightning, he had seen me. I
could sense the gentle tremor in his hand
as he reached out for me, his careful grip
so unlike that of the girl that had
unpacked me. Not wanting to damage
me in any way, I was read a few times,
careful consideration being made by my
beholder, and then I was bought, as
easily and simply as that.
Now that the easy part had been
completed, the hard work had to begin.
I wasn't touched after I had been
strategically placed beneath some books
on his desk, but I could still feel his gaze
on me, as every once in a while I was
checked on, just in case. That moment
arose, I could feel the sticky cellophane
wrapper being cut from around me, and
with the softest ink pen I could ever have
imagined, I was written.
The beauty of the words radiating from
within me, the careful flick of the pen
highlighting the incandescent glow of the
ink. No feeling can ever match those that
inhabited my being at that specific
moment in time. I felt invincible, like
nothing could ever touch me.
Well they do always say pride comes
before a fall.
It did seem a little odd when I was never
properly handed over. I was kept in a
safe place in his bag the whole day, and
just as I began to think that he'd given
up, I was grabbed. Everything happened
in a blur, but the next thing I knew, I had
taken up residence in a folder, carefully
slipped inside, so subtle and swift, yet so
gently.
My next stage of this journey was not
quite as comfortable, I was knocked and
bashed, no special care taken for she did
not know I was there. She didn't even
know I existed.
My mood had now dropped incredibly,
everything seemed to be a sombre shade
of grey, like nothing was exciting any
more. Then I was found.
At first, I could sense the recipient's great
confusion, the constant re-reading and
bemusement. Eventually, though, the
penny dropped. I could feel the
realisation in her grip, and then slowly
building pace and pitch; she began to
laugh. There was no comparison to my
mood of that moment and of the night
before. I was now feeling embarrassed,
used, hurt and remorseful for failing the
boy who had fed me so much love and
care.
I tried to block out the happenings of the
next few days, all I know is that a lot of
laughter and humiliation was
experienced.
So I suppose this is the only thing left for
me, a miserable future, me being the
solemn witness to my own peril. I wish
I'd served him well, if only I'd done things
differently, but it's too late now. This is
the end for a pointless me, a pointless
Valentine.
Elle Bracher A2