The closet

I walked into the room, the first thing that caught my attention was the closet, I struck up a conversation with it: I invited it to tell me its story. It began very slowly to say; as you see me now, I was once a beautiful tree on a hillside in the North of Argentina, men came with electric saws and in a few hours that place was left bare. It was painful to see, then they went on mutilating us until we became sheets of wood.

A good man, a carpenter, gave no thought to us poor trees, he turned me into what I was, a closet in a hotel room. Once again I was beautiful, my doors closed perfectly, the drawers slid smoothly, everything was perfect.

The first person who used me was an elderly gentleman, very tidy, he folded his clothes with great care and put them away in the drawers, he treated me well. Then there was a young man who barely used me but left forgotten inside me a letter that the maid read, she burst out laughing and remarked, "poor wretch".

And so my life went on passing until three wild young men arrived who slammed the doors shut with kicks, used the drawers to sit on, and I think the hotel owner had to throw them out. I was left damaged and no one bothered to mend my wounds..... It didn't want to keep talking and I didn't insist, a maid came in to ask if I needed anything.

I told her no and began putting away my things and, without anyone seeing me, I gave the Closet a gentle caress.