I sit in my usual spot. I eagerly wait. I watch the clock – tick tock tick tock – for the little hand to finally reach four. The time stretches out like eternity as I yearn for my love to return home from work and come back to me.
First, I hear the car, rumble onto the drive. Then the key twisting in the lock followed by leather soles against wooden floors. He was coming. I try to keep my cool.
He walks into the room and immediately he eyes settle on me sitting there. He reaches out, touches me. Inside, I feel like I am glowing as he handles me, lovingly opens me up.
He dives inside me. I feel heat radiating from his skin. He digs deep, deeper, right inside. Once. Twice. Three times. I can hardly contain myself as his fingers brush against my walls. I purr in delight.
Then he's done. He has what he wanted. He closes me up and leaves me be. Alone yet again. I hear the television in the front room go on.
Melancholically, I hum, tunelessly though I try. The sounds soothe the emptiness inside me. At least, I will be until they return. I might feel full again in time but I never truly know. I eye up those beside me, the kettle, the hob, the washing machine.
I wonder if they also feel the pain I feel.