Sticky Note: part 2

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(Contd. from Sticky Note)

December 11, 2010:

Today, the environment around appears very silent. I haven’t heard even a single footstep in the last few hours. This kind of environment appeared very strange when I encountered it for the first time but with time I noticed that this environment was reproduced every week. Once I realized that it was a periodic event, I started feeling more at ease and got used to it.

Nevertheless, I felt more lonely than ever at these times.  I could see my siblings on his desk, who were still lucky to be sticking together nicely in a stack and enjoying the warmth of staying together until someone comes and decides to tear them away from the stack and put it where I was. Such ‘tearing’ events were really ‘tearing’ events. They always brought tears in eyes of everyone, the one which was separating, the ones from which it was separating and the ones like me who have already gone through that pain.  Though personally speaking, it always felt good when such a ‘tearing’ event took place, since I was getting someone to talk to.

We talked about the good, old days when we were sticking together with others. We used to talk when we were sure that there was no one around. Though, at times, someone would overhear us and look around in a bewildered fashion as to from where this sound is coming. When we realized that we are catching someone’s  attention, we used to go as silent as a sticky note could go. After a while, the surprised looks used to disappear and it often ended up with that someone shaking their head in disbelief. After all, who could believe that a sticky note could speak !

Not only we could speak, we could also read. And I realized this yesterday, when one of my siblings was stuck not on the same wall besides me, but on my adjacent wall to my right. I realized that I could read what was written on his yellow skin. It said “r-e-v-i-e-w s-y-e-d”.  Since, he was a bit far from my location, I would need to shout to talk with him. But I didn’t want to get the attention of people around me. I was waiting for this silent environment to ensue in so that I could get a chance to talk to him. Now, while telling my story to the world,  I realize that this is the moment I was waiting for. I think he may be able to read as well, like me. I want to know  what’s scribbled over me. I seriously suspect, that what’s written over me has something to do with why I am having such a long lifespan. I will talk to him now and will let you know what he had to say.

(to be contd.)

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