A Lamp

A lamp, green as the icy ocean depths, tucked itself quietly into bed, and turned out the night-light. The lamp's name was Lou, and he sighed deeply, feeling his gold base relax as he did so. It had been a long day. And tomorrow left little reason to hope for better. In twelve days he would marry, and tomorrow Lou was to meet his blushing bride for the first time.

He rolled over in bed, restlessly twisting himself in his cord, and rolled back, glowing fainly from thought. Marriage. He'd waited a long time for this, since he was young, so many lightbulb changes ago. What if she didn't fancy him?, the blushing Conchita, a toaster of slightly fewer years than Lou. His parents were arranging the marriage, and Lou supposed he ought not doubt their judgment in choosing for him a bride.