This box is cold and damp.
Floral scented. Draped in the finest hand-me-down trimmings. Pale.
Cue a gang of nerdy high schoolers approaching with unsure steps.
“So, uh, how is it?” says one of the boys huddled around the half-opened mahogany coffin.
It ain’t so bad.
The weather is agreeable. The water is potable.
My bowl fills itself with colorless gruel when I get hungry.
My pockets are never empty of loose change.
Homework is always delayed. The class bells are forgiving.
The water fountains pour me lukewarm cocoa.
My closet is stocked with the latest refurbished gadgets.
The loan office never calls. The parents knock before nagging me.
And there’s so much to do.
I could run a corner convenience store.
I could file drawers full of paperwork.
I could look for the neighborhood cat that went missing.
I could finish that online diploma I started.
“Sounds pretty legit.” says another.
“It’s late, we better go.”
You too, my friends.
“Goodbye Shao.”