The prompt I feel so dirty. I don’t remember the last time I was washed. I’m probably the thing she uses more than any other possession, but I never get to be clean. I don’t ever feel useful, only used, like some castaway from society. Like that homeless man that I see on the corner on those days she doesn’t cover me, smother me with he who is so beautiful. If you ever used him, and not me, if you ever washed me, he wouldn’t be so much prettier than me! We could both be beautiful! But no, I am to be covered like an unwanted stain, only he is…