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The Silent Pain of Classroom Furniture |
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One morning, I was running late for school. But feeling embarrassed, I didn't
have the courage to enter the classroom. I wandered alone in the hallway, trying
to be as quiet as possible.
"Woo..." Who was crying? It startled me. I sneakily looked inside the classroom
window. Oh, there was not a single soul in sight! Who could be crying? I felt
uneasy and wondered if it was a ghost.
Then, I heard a voice let out a deep sigh and sobbed, "Why is my fate so
miserable? My young masters don't cherish me at all. They use pens to draw on my
face, making me look like a little kitty! That's not all, they also perform
surgery on my face, scraping and cutting me with sharp knives. It hurts so much,
and it's not a cosmetic surgery but rather disfiguring! Some of them engrave the
answers to exam questions on my face, some use me as a scratch paper for
calculations, and others use me as a target to practice their knife-throwing
skills. I am now covered in scars and look worn out. What's the point of living
in this world?"
Another voice sobbed after listening to the previous words, "We share the same
misfortune! Isn't my life the same? My young masters paint strange white liquid
(correction fluid) on my face, carving the words "throne," "treasure," and
"position" all over it. My face is also filled with scars, painful and
unsightly. My legs never have a day of rest, getting bumped, hit, and broken.
They also step and jump on me, making my once clean body dirty. They torture me
until I'm bruised all over."
I fell silent. I understood it all. This was the voice of the furniture, their
grievances and frustrations.
I stood quietly in the hallway for a long, long time. |
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