It was all so unfair. When did it come to this? What is it about me that turned me from something the people took pride in to a wreckage of my former self? There was broken glass all around me which I thought must have come from myself. I did not have the means to escape from the baking sun that was destroying the weeds growing around me. My lovely varnish was decaying and the shelves within me had already given up and fallen to crumble on the ground.
I had once been splendid to look at but these days I was getting ignored as I lay in a patch of weeds at the side of the road. This was all because I had fallen from the roof rack of my owner’s car when they were moving house.
They never came to look for me and so I remained where I landed. I was a mere shadow of myself when I got spotted by somebody who plucked me from my grass and transported me to some workshop.
Just as I had started to give up and accept my fate as a decaying object, somebody took pity and tenderly restored me.
Written for Sunday photo fiction