I remember brushing my teeth with you for the first time. Through busy bristles and foaming faces, we smiled, as we performed one of the most mundane human hygiene rituals together. Side-by-side, we faced the same mirror and took turns making faces as we brushed and brushed. I was one silly face away from bursting out in laughter and choking up a foamy white splatter right onto that shared mirror.
After one last spit into the same sink, we dropped our toothbrushes into a nearby glass cup. As if toasting in celebration of our shared milestone, the plastic hitting glass made a "clink" sound like the kiss of two champagne glasses.
Since that night, and each day after, your toothbrush has stood tall, propped up against my own.
"I'll keep you company from now on," declared this new toothbrush. "Your human turns to you to keep on smiling. My human turns to me for the same purpose. Let's be friends."
"Okay. But just to let you know, I'm used to being on my own," squeaked my toothbrush.
"Well, now you have company," replied yours.
I remember meeting you for the first time. Amidst a busy bar with drinks in hand, we smiled, as we performed one of the most common human recreational rituals together.
At the end of the night, you asked if you could walk me home.
“Okay. But just to let you know, I’m used to getting home on my own,” I squeaked.
“Well, now you have company,” you replied, as you extended an open hand.