Flicker

         There you go flickering. Going between dark and light so fast it’s like a strobe out of time to the beat. You’re on your last legs. Attached to a white ceiling, surrounded by health hazardous fluorescent office lights, sparsely placed sprinklers, and the odd smoke detector, you’re the star of the office solar system. The other fittings envious of the only one of us the people look to in the darkest of hours. They whisper about you, they say such horrible things, the other fittings, such catty things.
         They think you blind and deaf, oblivious to their taunts. But you hear and see just fine. You see their reflections in the light. You hear their echoes in the dark, and feel their looks in the silences. It doesn’t faze you. You’ve always been serious about the job.
         Would you remember the time when you first started here? Push through the dizziness. I remember the things you’ve forgot. I remember an old man place a step ladder under your axis. He wore sky blue jeans, too big for his wrinkly body, and a red polo shirt, dulled from wear over his long years. He placed a cardboard box down next to him. It reminded me of a coffin. He used a Stanley knife to open it - I remember the knife screaming for joy; they all love their work so much. It was the first time I saw you, this clean, green and white, rectangle box shaped thing of beauty. It was the first time I saw my best friend. The one I run to when their words would hurt me, words which cut deeper than a Stanley. And, I remember, when the old man lifted you up – the sunlight hitting you – and after a while of fidgeting finally got you fitted to that tile. It looked so good on you, the white plaster acoustic panel. It matched your natural tone… Heh, excuse me, but I couldn’t help it, the staring. But you always liked that, didn’t you?
         I've always liked the way the tile’s little dots look after the sun went down and your light shined over them. Mmm, it was something special, seeing you work like that, even when no people were here.
         Sometimes I wish I was the one to dress you. I always wondered what a smooth textured panel would look like on you.  But it didn’t matter to you. You weren’t concerned with such things. What you wore paled in comparison to your duty. Because you knew your role; and the rest of the heavens gasped and looked in awe at you, they knew too. They all know how important you are. They revolve around you.
         I remember too, that after the quiet time, when the men and women came, who sat in ergonomic chairs, the other fittings view of you changed. They resented you, loathed you, and were jealous of you – envious of the way the people looked to you. You've always been the people’s favourite. And I always said I would protect you, and scream for you, and have your back when the people went home for the day and the other fittings would fling their taunts at you.
         Not that you’re helpless. I just miss those happy times; how happy I could be. Maybe you think I’m being too concerned. You’ve always been like a rock. A naked rock. I’ve told you about the fantasies I’ve had about you, my sugar. How we’d laugh and laugh and you’d let me kiss you, down there, you know. It would tickle, and you’d swear, breaking the silence that held us where it counts.
         I try to imagine that again. But now that I see you, my sugar. Now, like this, flickering off and on. I can’t remember what it was all about. The fear clouds all that. It’s final. I know because the sprinklers, the smoke detectors, the air grill, the poisoned tongued lights, and the other speakers, they’ve all stopped. Stopped the taunts, the remarks, the jokes, all of it. They were never bad, just jealous. But you always knew. You were always the wise one.
         I just want to give you one last thing, my darling. The one thing you need. And I’ve asked everyone, the other fittings, the chairs, the desks, they all want to help, to cheer. It’s so nice, isn’t? It’s happening now. Here it comes.
         RING-A-DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING …
         There goes the alarm. She always loved you, like a sister. Like I love you. And now the people are about to turn me on, baby. I’m going to be announcing this one last time, for you. It’s always for you.
         Everyone, this is Rachel, the Fire Warden for this floor. This is not a drill. Please stay calm, and in an orderly fashion head to the nearest stairwell. Please follow the EXIT sign.