Breakfast at Tiffany's Part 3

Sethra turned and departed after placing the crate uncerimoniously on the floor.

I traced her footfalls into the distance, as she made her way back down the stairs.

I fought back a pang of guilt as my body ceased shaking, somewhat grateful for the break in the incoming vibrations.

She returned with a bundle of packing material, and tossed it on the bed.

There was something about the way she moved today.

Purposeful.

Deliberate.

I was becoming increasingly more unsettled as I watched her.

As she separated the cotton into pieces, it became apparent why she was making me so nervous.

Not once since her arrival did she look towards me, or at least, where I was looking from.

Her eyes were taking me in, in my entirety; The spark of recognition that usually played across them, was absent.

I waited dutifully for her to greet me.

.. and waited.

But it would never come.

She finished pulling apart the material and made her way towards me.

Carefully, she unscrewed the cap and lifted off my shade.

The urge to writhe my way to freedom was overwhelming; and unnecessary.

No matter how I fought to struggle, her hands continued towards the bed, my shade gently grasped between them.

All I could do was watch in silence, as it was gingerly placed atop a pile of packing material, the excess wrapped around it and stuffed inside.

When Sethra finished, I could feel the packing surround the dome as it rocked lazily on the bed.

I pleaded mentally, knowing what was to come.

Soon thereafter, her outstretched arm sailed towards me. The touch of her giant hand almost causing me to pass out completely.

A few moments later, I found myself placed on the bed, ready to join it's fate.

I stared, searching for some sign this was all a big practical joke, but her gaze remained steadfast upon her work.

Without hesitation, her fingers quickly worked the packing material around me.

Around my base, and around my stem.

Tightening here..

Stuffing there..

She continued her way up past my body and over my wooden face.

More and more until I could feel it was enclosing me completely.

I could barely feel her hands around me anymore.

A few more layers and nearly all traces of light were vanquished.

The packing pulled and constricted as she lifted me up. Gravity twisted and turned as she examined her handiwork.

Satisfied, she slowly lowered me into the crate.

I could feel her add more packing and felt her place my shade inside to join me.

It had all happened so fast.

I sat, caught between stimulus and disbelief.

Alone. 

Shocked into stillness in the muffled silence.

Only when the lid to my box was being secured did the moment finally catch up.

It was true.

..I was a lamp.

The mental blockades of denial came crashing down, unable to maintain their validity..

..I was a lamp.

..I was a piece of furniture.