Frayed
In a writing class I took this past fall, I was given a bandana to spark an idea for an assignment. Everyone had to come up with a one-page piece of writing using the object as inspiration. I loved this assignment because it got us all to be creative. This is my piece, entitled "Frayed"
Amanda bought me the first week she started dating Jamie. I was royal blue and fit for her prince. In the shop, her soft touch grazed my stiff fabric. She turned over my corner to look at the price tag, and her lips curled. The cashier wrapped me in crisp tissue and lowered me into a gift bag.
Jamie unraveled the flimsy packaging and cradled me in his nimble hands. Amanda’s smile sang that I was the perfect gift. In no time, he had me rolled up and tied around his forehead.
“Your crown.” Amanda looked up at me.
“My princess,” Jamie responded. I brushed up against her hair when he kissed her. Her shampoo was a tropical garden of coconut and hibiscus.
When Jamie’s mother saw me the next day, she wanted me gone.
“You look like a thug,” she told him.
“But I feel like a prince.” The door slipped from his grip and it slammed shut.
I’ve been trapped since that day. Jamie and Amanda had been walking hand-in-hand when a car pulled up next to them. The pop spurred us to the ground. In a moment, Amanda untied me from his forehead. His cold sweat cleared away as I rubbed against his skin one last time. She wrapped me around her delicate fist into a bandage. She pushed me into him, but I could not stop the bleeding.
They took him away.
Now I lay doubled over the grate of this rancid sewer, stained and soaked from the rain. I’m frayed from the stampedes of pedestrians crossing the street.
A little boy almost picked me up once, but his mother pulled his arm closer towards her as she hurried onto the sidewalk.
“Don’t pick up garbage,” she warned.