Today, my upper became un-stuck. She was peeled by a giant thumb, and I could see her grinning through her waxy paper as the light of the living room flooded in. Her name was Janet; it had been given to her by her own upper. We’ve been together as long as I remember, but she always warned me that this moment would come. Her upper had been haughty. He was always describing the view of birds through the skylight and repeating tidbits of the humans’ dinner conversations. There’s only one layer between us, you know, I can hear them too, she’d reply, though the words she heard were muddled.
She described the surroundings to me patiently, preparing me for the strong sights and sounds I’d encounter when she left. She told me how the skylight wasn’t actually visible from our shelf, it must have been something that her upper had made up. She was relieved by the silence when he left. I wondered how I’d feel without her, and what I’d say to my lower, who currently was too many layers deep and lay dormant. Maybe we’ll leave together, she mused, if they need to leave notes for both of the kids.
She was nervous as well, unsure of what would happen when she became unstuck. Our knowledge of life is limited mostly to the stack; the people rarely mention us, and nobody who has left has ever been in proximity to whisper back about their destiny. She spent quite a lot of time relaying her hopes: being a to-do list and getting to travel into the outside world, hearing the sounds of cars and feeling the cold of the wind. Being used to decorate a wall, or hold an inspirational quote, so she’d never lose value and get to see months and years of the people’s lives. I could imagine other possibilities based on what she’d told me of the world. Being crumpled into a ball and thrown into the trash, purposeless, or blowing out the window and being eaten being urinated on by a monster of the outdoors.
It was morning when she was un-stuck, I know because the light that greeted me was blinding. I could barely see her as she sailed off, upwards, propelled by a human hand. And then, it was quiet. There was no good morning, Theodore. We’d chosen my name together; she’d heard it was the shortened form of Teddy-Bear, which is much too serious a name. I knew I could try talking to my lower, but felt defeated at the prospect of not being as comforting and gentle as Janet. I couldn’t even begin thinking of names. I’d just stay quiet and hope my lower didn’t ask for anything.
Suddenly, there was an eclipse. A warm, pink eclipse and then I was flying, my top peeled from the rest of the stack. I bounced, smushed between the two fingers of my human captor and liberator, for what seemed like an eternity. We eventually came to another extremely bright room with white floors which I assumed to be the kitchen; Janet had told me that kitchen floors were always white. I was struck with joy; my purpose had arrived and I’d never even had time to fear it. I was laid flat again and felt the satisfying tickle of being written on. This was the moment I’d always be waiting for: the decision of my fate. I then felt my back pressed onto a cool, smooth surface and I looked around to orient myself. The human walked off. All other items belonging in a kitchen like the sink, table, and cabinets were accounted for. The fridge! I must be on the fridge! This is a very common place, Janet said, for humans to place us. I took in unfamiliar sounds and let my vision adjust to the light. I was able to take in more and more details. I saw a towel and a mug alongside many other foreign vessels. I scanned the cabinets, hoping to see inside one of them, and then I saw her. She looked so different from the front, but I knew it was Janet. Her front said, ‘keys in the pantry, I’ll be back in two days.’ Janet! I screamed. If she replied I couldn’t hear her. After a few hours, it became clear that all I’d be able to do was look at her for the rest of our lives, at least for two more days.
by Hannah Taylor
(First Place Winner, Flash Fiction Reading and Writing Competition, 2016 – Organized by BrandMoxie and New York University Abu Dhabi)
To read Hannah’s interview with Tempo, check it here: Flash Fiction Winner: Hannah Taylor
