I've been sitting on this wooden table for a while now. I haven't been moved nor used yet. I thought I was meant for more than this, more than just a decoration in a coffee shop. I thought that I was created to do more. I thought I was going to be more meaningful and useful to this world.

  Day by day people come and go. Very few people even bother to shoot me a glance and I'm not touched unless I'm cleaned by one of the employees.

   I still remember the day I was delivered and set up here at this coffee shop. I thought I was going to be used for coffee beans or milk or something more but I wasn't. The owners of this place sat me here on this table with two others. Was that all I was created for or is there more to my story than I thought?