My Black File

I was wandering around the stationary shop, aimlessly picking up stuff that I have never thought I’d own. I came to the files section and poked around, shuffling through files, looking around for something that would catch my eye. Nothing did.

The file rack was really huge though, and I came to this corner where uni-color files were kept. And at last, I saw it. The only black file I’d ever see in this shelf. I took the only one out of the shelf, and instantly, I know I have to have this. I held on to its plastic tightly, like someone will actually snatch it away from me.

I went to the counter, gingerly taking out my last ten dollar bill and handed it to the woman behind the counter.

At home, I carefully opened the plastic and took out the file. The file had a button in the middle, and a few slots inside. I put a few papers in each slot and held on tight. I took a sniff of the file and realized it smells good. Mmm, the smell of new files. They’re just like books, they have a unique scent.

Now I carry it whenever I go, and I never put it back into my bag. I would constantly wipe it with my hands, since the air was really dirty lately and left a lot of dust on it. It contains my scribblings, my work, and my homework, and a lot more from my life. It’s like my scrapbook.

I felt like it gave me courage as I hugged it, and gave me confidence as I went everywhere with it.

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