Obsolescence: A Different Point of View
By Mia Salvati
In the beginning, it was all the time. All I knew was your touch. It seemed like no one could pull us away from one another. Your eyes were always on me. And I lit up like the sun for you.
You would look at me so happily. I knew it wasn’t my words that were making you happy. For I never talked to you, it was your friends talking to you. But if you smiled, I was ecstatic, just to be able to see you like that.
But while I grew old, you stayed youthful. Bright, happy, and beautiful. And I was happy to be yours. Until one day, as you pushed my buttons, a look crossed your face that I had never seen before aimed me. Frustration, punctuated with your pursed lips. Exactly the opposite of your usual bright smile.
Your friends showed off their new models. Streaming video, with lavish cases that they didn’t make for me. And your grip on me became softer and softer. I knew my time was drawing near.
The last time I saw you, you had a slim, new phone in your hands. You handed me to your little sister. She was so excited to have me, saying something about being cool now. But I could only remember your last words to me.
And one day, someone found me. On a bench, the last place your sister had forgotten me near the schoolyard. As they powered up my screen to try and find out who I belonged to, only three words flashed. The words I had meant for you, and only you. Since I was not yours anymore.