If only they could speak
I am a closed and nice tissue box talking to the tissues in a market. Next somebody comes and takes me. When they open me I feel cold. People put their icky gooey hands in me and take one of my tissues then blowing green slime from their nose especially when they have flu. They wipe their hands after food from my property and throw them in the bin; the other cry because they lost a friend. The more they use the less I get and I am closer to being thrown away and recycled to a new tissue box. I never have fun because I am used 24 hours.