For years we were inseparable, and travelled everywhere together, slowly aging in the sun. He used to feel my scars, rub cream into my tanned skin, and adored me until he didn’t. It was quite the shock to see how quickly I was replaced. On holiday in Siena, his head was turned by another. Glossy, chestnut brown. She was younger, but then, they always are. Italians do everything better. The first time he saw her, he knew he’d found the one, so left me behind on a train. I was baggage he no longer wanted to carry. They don’t quite fit together like we did but he can’t stop stroking her.
I wasn’t on my own for very long. A woman found me and took me home. I’m left on the shelf, but I like my quiet life now. Her touch is softer than his. She won’t use me but I know she likes having me around. I wonder if he’ll ever regret leaving me.