I'm always afraid of when guys pick me up and look at me. So many times they don't like me. I'm often called the "runt of the litter". Everyone around me is bigger, prettier, cuter, you name it. My owner calls me cursed as well. Three times someone picked me out. Three times I was brought back. I wasn't wanted and each guy that brought me back was devastated. They wanted me, but someone else didn't. So I had to be brought back.
So when guy number four picked me out of the line-up, I for sure thought he could feel me shaking. Don't pick me, I'm cursed because I'm small. He looks hopeful and has a big grin on his face. I shudder at the thought of making someone else so unhappy. My owner quadruple checks with the guy that he really wants me. He's sure.
My new owner carries me, stares at me saying this is the best day of his life. He finally puts me in his pocket, but keeps patting me every so often.
He keeps talking to himself, repeating the same thing over and over. Messes up then starts again.
Suddenly I hear a woman's voice. She sounds happy. Maybe I won't disappoint her like I've done to so many others. They talk awhile, eat, talk some more.
Finally he makes his move. He asks her a question. THE question. He pulls me out of his pocket, shaking me, and opens my box.
I see her. She looks shocked. I know . . . I just know I'm going back again.
Suddenly she kisses him, asks him if he's sure, he says he is, and she keeps saying "yes" over and over again. He takes me out of the box and puts me on her hand. I fit just right. She looks at me and smiles and calls me beautiful. She almost can't stop looking at me.
I sigh happily. Finally a family of my own. I guess the fourth time's the charm.