A STORY...
Pencil: You know, I'm really sorry.
Eraser: For what? You didn't do anything wrong.
Pencil: I'm sorry because you get hurt for me. Whenever I make a
mistake, you're always there to erase it. But as you make my mistakes
vanish, you lose a part of yourself. You get smaller and smaller every
time.
Eraser: That's true, but I don't really mind. You see, I was
made to do this. I was made to help you whenever you do something wrong.
Even though, one of these days, I know I'll be gone and you have to
replace me with a new one, I'm actually happy with my job. So please,
stop worrying. I hate seeing you sad.
