Wednesday, November 16, 2016

Championship Trophy

They won!  Against all expectations, the team from small town, middle class America won.  As the trophy was hoisted in the air, it looked down in triumph on the adoring crowd.  It was the championship trophy.  It was the winner.


The trophy peers through the glass, listening for footsteps, hoping for a visitor.  It fumes in resentment.  Have they forgotten me so soon?  It cannot recall the last time it saw that gaze of worship.  Nowadays only tourists stop by for a brief glance at the display case.

The trophy cannot understand.  It represents the championship.  Doesn’t anyone realize how special I am?  It angers the trophy to think it is now just one of dozens of shiny objects gathering dust.   Why did no one warn me?  The trophy chews on its now familiar resentment and bitterness.  At one time it was the winner, but now no one cares.

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