On Monday, a toy is sitting in an old cardboard box that looks as if it will fall apart in a blink. It is a small truck, and its paint almost shows a rich crimson--its past color. In a day, this truck's alarm falls off; and soon, its bolts follow.
It waits for a boy--now a man.
On Friday, it is in a trash can.
A/N: There is no 'e'. Anywhere. Whew.