A/N: This just came to me and I thought it was a cute idea. I love to read stories that are from a different POV. I hope you enjoy it!
Trapped in the Closet
It sort of smells in here. You know for a doctor, he's not the cleanest guy I know. I think it's that pair of old gym socks on the floor in the back. They look worn.
--
God, I can't remember the last time I spent so much time just resting anywhere. I haven't been out in weeks. I think there's a layer of dust on my top. How depressing.
Well, okay, probably not depressing for him, but for me. The least he could have done was hang me on a hook or a coat rack where I could still see stuff that was going on. I'm all alone in here.
--
Well, just me and the silver one, but he's just so stuck up. I can't stand him. He thinks he's so sophisticated, just because he got to out with the tux. Ha! Who spent everyday of the last year or so with him? Not old Silver Top. No, it was me.
--
I can hear him playing the piano in here at least. Sort of muffled, but it makes it a little less lonely.
--
Oh, I miss the old days. It's been far too long since I whacked Wilson in the shin, or tripped some poor, unsuspecting lab tech. Or stretched myself out nice and long to block someone into a room, or forced myself into the elevator or a door while somebody was trying to get away from us. You know, the good old days.
--
He probably doesn't even think about me anymore. After all those hours he spent twirling me around, playing catch with that ratty old tennis ball.
I can't say I miss the bouncing up and down on the floor. Always made me a bit dizzy.
--
Ooh, the door is opening! Does he need me? Am I coming out? No, just gathering up some laundry. Oh well, at least he took the smelly socks.
--
He looked good. Oh, who am I kidding, he looked great. Of course he's great; he doesn't need me anymore. I'm just a bad memory to him now. He looks like he's been exercising. That would explain the increase in the sweaty socks in here.
He's been running, I heard from the sneakers. Good for him. I'm glad he's better. It's still lonely in here, but isn't he better off without me?
--
He's staring at me. Why is he staring at me? Oh my God, is he going to get rid of me? He is, he's going to throw me out. What if he snaps me in half? Maybe he'll drop me off at the Salvation Army and I could help someone else.
He didn't look well. He looked older, again. Well, like he looked before.
--
He's staring at me again. He walked off, but he left the door open. Now he's sitting on the bed staring at me.
Was he limping?
--
He took me out of the closet this morning. He looks awful. I'm so ashamed of myself. It felt so good to have his hand on me that I actually was happy he's limping again.
What a jerk I am. Well, maybe that's why he chose me.
--
Oh, Greg. I'm so sorry.