The little things nobody picks, and the day they turn out to be exactly what was needed.
No.01
The one color nobody picks.
It can't draw on white paper, so it waits in the box while every other color gets used. Patient, hopeful, a little lonely.
No.02
His whole job is to pop. He's too shy to.
Every time the crank turns, he peeks out and slams the lid. Kind and nervous, and brave when someone needs him.
No.03
Worn down. Still ready.
Shoved into the corner of the case by a shiny new pencil, it never stops hopping toward the hand. Eager, loyal, a little pushy.
No.04
Too big. Exactly big enough.
Hand-me-down rain boots that slump by the door while the kid runs past in sneakers. Droopy when ignored, proud when worn.
No.05
Its squeak is the beat.
The old plank swing everyone skips because it squeaks. Earnest; it strains with all its might.
