[ WP ] Write the thoughts and experiences of everyday objects used by humans as if they were conscious but could not communicate , only watch and be used .

Every day, I wait for him. 
 
 I've known many previous tenants in this flat, but none as caring as Thomas. Oh, the kettle likes to think that he likes her more, on account of the fact that he has tea every morning, but not necessarily toast. The kettle is a bitch, and does n't love him like I do. 
 
 I hear his voice as he enters the kitchen, wiping sleep from his eyes, and slices a bagel. He reaches out to me, caresses me, and I listen rapturously to his loving words. 
 
 `` Christ almighty, this bloody toaster better not burn my bagel this time.'' 
 
 I shudder with ecstasy as he inserts his sliced bagel into my waiting slit, and feel the warmth building inside of me as he thumbs my switch. I glow, I grill, and in a single upward thrust, I disgorge. Still warm with my afterglow, I listen contentedly to him. 
 
 `` God DAMN it! Why does this piece of shit ALWAYS burn my fucking toast?! What'engineer' crawled out of the pits of hell to unleash this horror upon the world?! What bastard purchased it?! God damn landlord does n't give a shit.'' 
 
 Continuing in this vein, he seizes a butter knife, scrapes off the blackened bits, butters it, and then turns to the kettle. But let her choke on her seconds. Inside, I am warm, bathing in the glow of his passion. It will, surely, last me until next morning.
