Generations

He lay with his greasy face against the cold laminate flooring after being dropped for the third time that morning.
He begged that he was not cracked, he had fallen at an odd angle.

Vertigo set in as a hand clamped around him and hastily lifted him from the floor. The fingerprints were wiped from his face by a shirt sleeve and he heard a sigh of relief, his screen was still intact.

Fingers smooshed his face once more as his user typed out a text.

He had been worried as of late, he had heard the rumours.
It was always discussed at this time of year, like clockwork, it panicked him immensely.
He hoped they were just rumours.

A new generation was coming.
He was being replaced.

His circuits buzzed as he daydreamed his demise in to the obsolete.
He thought he was special, irreplaceable, unique.

But the new phone was 0.6 inches bigger.
A technological revolution.

He placed himself on silent and hid behind the sofa cushions.
That’ll show ’em.