In an English classroom, in the sixth row from the door in the very back of the room, there is a faded yellow desk, quite different than the rest. It's a small desk, compared to the others, and quite sad looking too. With its cracked, yellow painted surface and squeaking joints. The tan surface of the desk is also scratched, long and curvy and short lines looping together to give the desk life. Lead filled dots are scattered throughout these lines, looking like constellations on a clear night sky.
The desks around it all look the same; large, smooth, tan surfaces and ruby red seats ready for the next students to sit in them and learn. Aluminum metal cages that keep the desks together, looking brand new and shiny and perfect next to the faded yellow desk that nobody wants.
There's a girl that sits in the faded yellow desk, galaxy shoes and constant tapping coming from her computer. She's alone in her own little world, but not from wanting to be. Isolated by her peers and considered different, she sits there day by day. Alone and afraid. Afraid no one will want her just like the faded yellow desk she sits in.
But could anyone blame her? The teens around her ignore her. She's seen as an annoyance. Someone to avoid. Laughter ripples through the room every time she speaks up. And she feels more and more alone the longer she sits there in the faded yellow desk.
Is this all she would become? A laughing stock for others to make fun of until she herself is the faded yellow desk. Unwanted and forgotten. Alone and thrown away. Faded from time itself.
But the same will happen to the ruby red desks. Scratches will mar their tan surfaces. Ruby red will fade to a musty, dull orange. Shiny aluminum will rust to brown. And no longer will they be wanted. They'll become the faded yellow desk themselves, with just a slightly different color.