reading / Short story / writing

Dear Conditioner

My Dear Conditioner,

Rain falling. Splashing everywhere.  The floor was golden. Do you remember this day? It was the first time I saw you, the first time you were used.

I was doing my duties, cleaning, scrubbing, my humble job as our masters’ janitor. And then I was put away, expecting the regular daily routine I had come to accept as life.

Then there you were. Changing things up. Rocking the boat. Pouring yourself on that golden floor I had just cleaned.  Changing it’s shape.

Your existence has changed the flow of my life, shifted the many terrains of our work. The brown, the red, and the golden floors, all softer, gentler, wavier because of you. I humbly clean them, but your power  changes their shapes.

The hard one said you were out of my league, and I believed him. You’ve met him, right? He was fatter when you arrived, but I knew him in his prime, in his rectangular days.  He used to travel further than us, worked harder than us, visiting places I’ll never know. I thought he was the wisest of us.

So I listened and never approached you except for on those days we worked together, cleaning and changing the world.

But one day, the hard one was no longer very hard. He was small. I assured him that he would be alright, but we both knew his days were done. Before he set out on his final mission he whispered me his last regrets in life, “Follow your heart, no matter how high up on the shelf your goal is.”

I thought of everything I loved about you. Your bubbles, your smells, your work, your beautiful container. And so I must tell you, my dearest. I love you. I want to clean and change worlds together.






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