I’ve always believed objects carry stories. We just rarely stop to hear them. This story is from a phone’s perspective- its journey, its feelings, and what to learn about its worth.
Let’s dive in!
I was born brilliant. Triple cameras. Lightning processor. Edge-to-edge display.
The salesman called me, “Our proudest flagship.”
It gave me a sense of pride, so it would to anyone who would own me. I was the best in the market, after all.
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One afternoon, a young woman in formal office wear held me gently.
“God…this is perfect,” she whispered.
Then she checked the price. Her fingers paused. She smiled faintly and put me back.
“Maybe next year.”
I watched her leave and thought, I belong to people who can afford me. The more expensive I am, the more valuable I must be.
Soon, a wealthy businessman walked in. Now, he looked like more of my type, you know. The clean-shaven man in suits, carrying a sleek gel push-back hairstyle.
“I’ll take it,” he said casually, not even asking about features.
I felt chosen.
Like he didn’t need to see much. Just a glance at me was enough to make a decision like that.
Life after that was luxurious. I travelled in airport lounges, leather car seats, and board meetings. The only thing I didn’t like was lying bare on marble tables. My guy didn’t put a case on me. He wanted to show me off.
“You’re not putting protective cover on it?” someone once asked him.
He laughed. “If something happens, I’ll just buy a new one.” Buy a new one?
That statement changed something in me. I wanted to be the best for him. I worked hard. Processed his deals. Captured sharp city skylines. Stayed up during midnight emails.
Yet he often frowned. He kept checking the newer models.
Was I not enough for him?
He would often blurt out things like…
“Battery could be better.”
“Camera’s fine… but the new model captures better.”
One evening, as he stepped out of his car, I slipped from his hand.
The scariest moment of my life. This accident scarred my body permanently.
A dent was carved into my corner. A small crack along my pride.
Instead of panic or concern, he picked me up, annoyed.
“Ugh. That’s why I shouldn’t bother.”
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Suddenly, all the things I was proud of, my looks, my speed, my multitasking capabilities, were falling apart.
The next week, he sent me off with his assistant to a small electronics store. Looked like a mobile repair shop to me. I saw people of my kind who performed with contentment. Some had dents, similar to mine, but they were not sad. Here I was, fighting for life. Maybe I was here to get some upgrades, I believed.
But to my nightmares, I was replaced.
Not repaired. Replaced.
The next time I woke up, I was at a refurbishment factory. Skilled hands cleaned me, tested me, revived my speed. My performance returned to life.
But the dent remained…faint, permanent, a constant reminder of my past.
I sat on a quieter shelf now. Lower price. Smaller tag.
I never imagined life would take a turn like that. At this point, it felt like a defeat and a sense of purposelessness.
Then one fine day, she came back…the same woman from months ago.
“I just need something reliable,” she told the store executive. “I can’t splurge, but I want it to last.”
Her eyes lit up the moment she saw me, and she picked me up.
“It has a tiny dent,” he mentioned.
She traced it softly.
“That’s okay.”
Did she remember me?
That evening, she dressed me in a beautiful lavender case that covered my scar. A sturdy screen guard followed.
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“There,” she smiled. “Safe now.”
Safe.
She charged me fully. My storage was already cleared in the factory. So she started filling me in on her files. Updated my software. I felt important again.
“You’re perfect for me,” she said after finishing a late-night presentation. “Glad I got you.”
For the first time, I was more than a status symbol.
I was valued.
I had thought worth came from price. From exclusivity. From belonging only to the wealthy.
But love doesn’t come from those who can replace you.
It comes from those who protect you.
And in her hands..dent hidden, screen guarded, purpose restored, I finally understood what real value meant.
Not first ownership.
But second chances.
Thanks for reading till the end. Did you like it? Share your thoughts in the comments below!
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