Lament for a Lost Favorite

Charcoal Grey was so uncommonly comfortable, so unreasonably adored. Times spent with Charcoal Grey, as with anything, were not all happy, not all sad, but treasured. The loss was public to my undying shame. My response, once I realize you’d left me, was so distressing to my niece that I was prayed for three times in that affectionate little dear’s prayer over the evening dinner. You laugh. I know I am silly to still feel a loss I should have relinquished after the passing of so much time. I reason with myself that, yes, Charcoal Grey can be replaced both in form and in function, yet I cannot reason with attachment. I will never again be the same without Charcoal Grey.