The Avocado Bag

This is written by Tarun and Ardhit.The bag is not only a bag for me, but also my lonely companion. It doesn't bring me any entertainment, but carries half of my work. The bag can't feel anything, but for me, I can feel its natural, internal suffering, unable to speak out its pain. Without the bag, I would be nothing, and I am grateful for its service.
SANJITHA WROTE
It looks like the cutest little avocado bag came to my life. Why, but I think it has a bit shy. The avocado's fat, squinky cheeks covering its tiny little eyes shows that it's gleaming with happiness on its face. First, what could be the reason, I wonder. Perhaps something funny happened, or it's just very happy about the X on its tummy. Valid reasons.
NIKILESH WROTE
I briskly walk down the stairs, a mix of emotions welling up inside me. As I do so, I pace my way to the place where I can be alone, a set of stairs in the far end of the corridor that no one uses. I sit there, grazing my hand against the freshly manicured blades of my grass grown on the either side of these steps. My thoughts wander my mind, replays, all the conversation, all the insults, all the insults, insults. Tears trickle down, having my cheeks and aimless falling onto the collar of my shirt. I suddenly feel an urge to turn around as a prickling sensation starts developing on my neck. I turned around, only to find a tiny bag rested on a chair, in the shape of an avocado, in the shape of an avocado, with tiny eyes and pink patches, meant to be spots of blush. The cutest part of the bag, obviously, the tiny smile, a wave of nostalgia hits me with the intensity of a wave. All the memories from my childhood come back to me and I smile.