Do this challenge in 30 consecutive days? Heh. Sorry. College beckons. If you find any errors in this, I`ll be as embarrassed as an ex-copyeditor ought to be, but I typed it out in about five minutes. So be kind.
Day five: A story revolving around an object in your room.
They say walls have ears, that windows look out, that roofs protect. They don`t talk much about the floor. But believe me; you would know if I were gone.
She would, anyway. I feel the touch of her feet every day. Bare and flinching against my chill in the early morning when the alarm forces her out of bed. Sock-clad and darting from place to place in a carefully choreographed routine. Clomping tennis shoes in for a quick break between classes. Slippery flip-flops damp from the shower, leaving watermark kisses on my faux wood skin.
I feel her indecision as she paces from spot to spot, hesitating, shifting her weight, turning away. Back and forth, over and over. I don`t know what she`s looking at, but I can feel uncertainty in the way she stands. Her feet cannot find their place in the earth. She is not yet stable.
I feel her excitement when hard rubber soles drum across me. She`s in too much of a hurry to remove her shoes. Exhaustion as her feet, bared again, drag over me and lift away. Something I cannot quite name, when her socks twirl and lift in a momentary, spontaneous dance.
I might understand if I had sight, but I live by touch alone.
I feel her knees occasionally, when she reaches for something just beyond her grasp. Once, I feel her hands. They do not greet me. They collide. My harsh surface brings up bruises. Her breath fans out, warms me. She has fallen.
I feel pressure as those palms push against me. As she uses my strength to stand up.