I sit there collecting the least amount of dust. As I’m everyone’s favorite spot to step. I’ve been used many times. Over the years I’ve just started to creak. Whether it be a loud creak or a almost silent creak. I’m about 2 feet long and I’m a dark oak slate of wood that sits as a wood panel they use for the floor. I’m not really a living thing but I can feel one’s weight when stepped on and can feel their voices when talking, they vibrate through me like a hum. Sometimes I wish I could talk or at least hum, but the only voice I really have is when stepped on and I creak. Today’s different though. Instead of being stepped on there using a tool I wouldn’t know what to call it and there tearing me from my spot. They moment they rip me from the ground a cold breeze hits the underneath side of me the side that hasn’t felt a breeze in the longest time. They carry me to what I presume is the outside and tossed me into a big black bin. Now I sit there waiting, rotting. What will be next?