Life has been drab this past week. I’ve been sitting around, confined, inside the walls of a pouch. Normally, I get taken out, used, and I can see the world. But something has been off. My pencil case and I don’t get moved into the backpack, jostled around, and then brought to different rooms all day. I don’t correct math homework, nor do I doodle on post-it notes. I’ve been neglected, forgotten. At least that’s what it feels like. I know my owner must have a reason; there have been rumors in the pencil case. 

“Has she decided she doesn’t need us?” 

“Maybe there isn’t even any school?”

“Has she found better school supplies?”

“Did her backpack break so she can’t take us?”

All of these possibilities swim inside my head until I simply cannot bear it. I decide I will just wait until the day finally comes when I am taken out. The day where I can once again hear children laughing, teachers talking, pens and pencils writing. The day where I can see everything is back to normal. Everyone is scared, fearful of what will happen in these confusing times. Currently, life is strange, but I know it will be fixed eventually. I’ll just be waiting; waiting through these lonely days in the pencil case.

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