There is an odd, pleasing sort of novelty when you're first introduced to someone. When you’re freshly unboxed, pulled out prematurely of your eternal slumber by warm, delicate fingers that proceed deftly to put you together, to fix you rightly, assemble you from pieces to a whole; the world is a heaven you wake up to and you’re gifted with the ability to excite. To charm, to add colour to his life. The light of his life, the fire in his soul, the pulsating jungular vein on his neck that graces his being with breath. Logically, objectively and realistically - nothing, nothing mattered more than seeing him in all his adoration of you.

It is exciting as so much as it becomes terrifying; how quickly things can take a turn. How then, I never would have contemplated there would be an end to attention of this degree. How now, I lie within a cardboard coffin, loosened and dismantled, left to savour the last of my time here, underneath the warehouse lights, with the vague barrier between present and past - a lid and a million fastened knots away. 

A/N: Written for the prompt: An inanimate object that falls in love with a person.