Rotary Young Writer Competition - 2nd Place - Yasmin

I sit in a shop every day waiting to be bought, waiting for my owner to come back, waiting to go home. As they look into me, I can see what they see, feel what they feel. I can be what they are, I can hear what they hear, I can touch what they touch, I can look into their soul. People just seem to look at me and then pass by. They go over to me, look at m e then go, stare at me then go. I sometime get a one - off smile and point. When my hopes get high, all of a sudden they disappear leave me, they go, they walk off, leaving me behind, and I just sit there, sit there in the corner, getting more lonely every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every month of every year. Watching every season go by from when the sun comes up to the sun going down. From the snow falling, to all the crispy leaves dropping, to the cold wet solid ground; from all the ice cream melting to the picnics starting to the picnics endings. I just sit there, getting dustier and more unwanted every second. Please, someone dust me. Nobody dusts me because I'm unwanted. Nobody wants me. Nobody likes me. I’m unwanted. I’m like a ghost: they just seem to stare right through my soul. Like I don't have one. I always make eye contact, but they never seem to see it. I always smile at them, but they never seem to see it. My blank expression is always mirrored by an ever - changing on e. Little tiny people pull faces at me, but I don't know why they do it. They always pose in front of me, but I don't know why they do it. All of a sudden, the shopkeeper has a white and red sticker with writing on it. SLAM!! The sticker is attached to me. Please someone take me home? The door opens with a ding - a - ling - ling and guess what? Lots of people come in! They come over and smile. Finally, someone is showing a bit of interest in me. Then all of a sudden, brown paper is wrapped around me and so no one picks me up. Plonk! I am put down in a small, tight space. Vvvrrrooooommmmm. Before I know it, I am picked up again and placed on a soft, squishy surface. At last I am unwrapped and I can see again. What a tidy and wonderful looking room I think, smiling away at all the kind people. The next morning, someone poses in front of me and I still don't understand why people do it. I’ve been living here for almost a year now and I now know that people look into me because they can see themselves in MY REFLECTION.