The life of a smartphone

I used to live on a stand, open for everybody to look at. People used to come play with my screen with their fingers for a few times and leave. I always waited with bated breath for the one person who’d pick me and take me with them. Finally, a person did and he was middle aged man with a stern looking face and a thick moustache. He examined me a few times, played with my screen and told the person beside him that he wanted me. So I was taken to the counter and was wrapped up in my cover. I was not used to closed spaces but I felt strangely comfortable in my cover. It was darkness after that. I couldn’t see a thing and could only feel a few bumps inside my cover, like an earthquake. When I could see again, I was in a small cramped room with a bed and green paint on its walls. He took me out from where I was comfortably snuggled up and opened my behind. He examined me a bit and closed it. Well, it does hurt a bit when your behind is opened but it was a part of life. I personally wasn’t very much used to getting my behind opened but the used phones that came to the store told us how we must get used to getting our behind opened because that’s how frequently it happened. Some of the used ones were really scary. They looked hideous with their cracked screens and sometimes the covers for their behind weren’t there. But not all of them were like that. A few used ones were not bad to look at with only a few scratches on their screen. Scratches were a part of being used by people they said. They always had a smug face while talking to us and they always said being bought and used by a person is the only way a phone could feel complete. The hideous used ones always stressed on the importance of getting picked up by a good person, one who is “phone friendly”. They had really bad stories to tell about their owners and they always wished all of us newbies landed into the hands of good ones. From the moment I was picked up I was really excited. I wondered what kind of a person my owner was. Was he going to treat me well? Would I be happy with him? All these questions were cut short when I saw another phone on the bed. It was smart too, but it had a smaller screen than mine. It looked at me and said, “This one has gotten me recently. I’m new too. A few weeks old, that’s all. Is he bored of me already?” Well, there was no denying I was much better looking than the other one. I was lighter and had a bigger and a better screen. That one lying on the bed was fat and heavy. No wonder he got bored of it so soon. I was way better! But then, he came into the room and picked up the other one to make a call. Wait! Aren’t people supposed to be smitten with new phones? I thought he was so excited that he couldn’t wait to use me. The other one looked at me and mouthed the words “You aren’t for him” as it disappeared outside the door with the man.