Roger was afraid that he wasn’t real. It seemed there was a possibility he was just an elaborate wind up toy. Sometimes he’d dream that the world was turning into lego. He’d wake up in a panic and only calm down once he’d pinched himself.
For his 21st birthday his mother took him to the seaside.
“There’s nothing more real than tasting the salty sea spray,” she barked.
But when they arrived, the beach was covered in lego. It seemed to be marching in from the sea. Roger was sure this was the end, he was made from plastic, his life was a lie. His chest tightened, though it didn’t matter. Roger wouldn’t need to breath if he was just a toy.
Then Roger felt a piercing pain, he’d never experienced anything like it. His breath returned and his eyes watered.
He looked down. The culprit was a small piece of lego that he’d stood on. Roger smiled, as he wiped the tears from his eyes. He was definitely real if there was a pain such as this in the world.
I got sent this link about lego washing up on a beach in England. It made me think how horrible and painful the ordeal of stepping on a bit of lego is.
freyawrightbrough 