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Toy. Plastic Toy. Molded in China. Loved by little boy. Hated by little boy’s mother. Thrown away one blustery, bright day. Picked up by Garbage Man, held onto. Given to baby daughter who cherished for months. Grew tired of Toy and left in park finally. Buried under heaps of sand and remained, dirty, unwanted, old. Teenager digs up, uses in film, left to wither when done. Dog finds Toy in teenager’s room, pierces hole in it with teeth. Toy cries but is not heard because there is no one to hear. Mother gives Toy to dog but dog is now disinterested and leaves toy alone. Toy then gets rained on, snowed on, rained on, stepped on, grown on, lived on. Toy dies, but his body is still in the backyard, sometimes the birds peck, the dog sniffs. 1,000 years later Toy’s body has finally disintegrated - there is nobody there to rejoice or be saddened.