Dust.

I like the way dust comes in imperceptibly and settles on all things stationary, indiscriminately. Its good in a way because when I return to my shelf, i pick up a book or a box, and from that thin or clustered layer of dust remember that it has been too long since I last remembered. It is a good reminder to remember things more often, things of use, and at some point, that had been of importance. Dust is an underrated aid of nature. I hope that someday you will come into the room that used to be ours and see me sitting on the bed, leaning against the window, the way I always do, and when you touch me, you will be met by that tiny, grainy, browned layer of dust and remember how often you forget to remember me. You will remember how long I have been waiting on my shelf, waiting to be remembered, to be used, to be of importance. And maybe, you will realise that I am no longer required and maybe I will remember that I am no longer supposed to be waiting.