After that, nothing happened for a long time. I simply waited and waited for something, anything, to happen. I watched as new 'projects' were added to the pile on the table, just piling up higher and higher.

We were all the same, really. Some of us (the lucky ones) might be taken off the table one day and get a few new parts or get a little bit closer to completion, but none of us were ever finished.

Some of the creations on that table only ever got as far as a head with no features, while others had whole bodies or other body parts, but it seemed as if I was the most finished one there.

Then, one day, another one was added to the pile. He didn't look like much, that's for sure, and I thought he would be just like myself and all the others (it seemed as if giving a new creation a few days of love and then an eternity of nothingness was a common trend for the creator), but I was proven wrong when, day after day, the creator came back for him and slowly he was finished.

I was astounded. This new creation, still just a child as compared to some of the ones who had been on that pile for years and years, had been finished.

And, though I hate to admit it now, I was jealous, very jealous. Why had the creator completed him? What made him so special? He was, as far as I knew, the only project the creator had cared enough about to finish, and I hated him for it.