Short Story 31: I Am a Lunchbox

Short Story 31: I Am a Lunchbox

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My name isn’t anything special, just a lunchbox. But I have a story to tell. I was born from heat-resistant plastic, sky blue in color, with a cartoon sticker on my lid. I was bought from a convenience store and became the proud property of a kind girl named Juliana.


Every day, I traveled to school with her. I held sandwiches, fried rice, and sometimes neatly sliced apples. Juliana would smile, hug me, and tuck me safely into her bag. We were inseparable.


At school, I watched the world from beneath the desk. I heard laughter from friends, teachers explaining lessons, and now and then... the grumble of a hungry tummy. There was a boy named Amir who always sat alone. Juliana noticed. One day, she said, “Mama packed extra today. Want to share?”


It was the first time I was passed to Amir. His hands trembled a little, and his eyes sparkled. From that day on, I was often a lunchbox for two.


But life shifted. One morning, Juliana didn’t come to school. A day turned into a week. I sat on the kitchen shelf, empty and quiet. Whispers filled the room: “Juliana’s in the hospital... she’s sick.”


Months passed before I felt her touch again. She was thinner now, her hair mostly gone. She brought me to school—just one last time. Inside me wasn’t food, but a folded note:

"This little blue box once made me happy. Please give it to someone who can share that happiness again."


Now I belong to Amir. My contents may change, but my purpose remains: to carry kindness and memories.

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By: Siti Isah Ithnin 🫰




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