We sit here waiting. Wanting to be wanted. Behind the glass, things are not so clear. We stand tall next to each other separated by our individual compartments. We are evenly lit up in glory. People stand around and stare. Children press their noses against the glass and peer in. Contemplating which one of us will be chosen.
We’re each assigned a code when we enter the unit. Mine is B4. This code is my identity, it determines my freedom. And when I am gone, one of my own kind will fill my spot and take my code. So we wait for someone to enter our cypher on the keypad, and pray that their fingers didn’t slip and press the wrong plastic buttons. We’re here to please. We want to be chosen.
I’ve watched many fall and be taken. Some get stuck on their journey to the outside. A7 is constantly replaced. It’s sought after. I have been here for forty seven days. I don’t even know if I’m still able to fulfill my duty without harm. I just wish I could’ve been an A7. Those darn Doritos. No person can eat just one Dorito.
It’s tough being Juicy Fruit. Who buys gum out of a vending machine anyway? Desperate people that’s who. At least I have the drink machine across the room to admire while I wait for my destiny. D9 is a tall glass of water if you know what I mean.