“Are you alright?”,  asked the Origami Butterfly.
“You bet I am!” , snapped the Sharpener. The crack on his back was reemerging, after a useless attempt to heal it with superglue. He reckoned it was already beyond the power of the superglue to heal him. He could already see his future in a trash can anyway.
And the little Two-wings was asking him if he was alright.
“No need to be so snappy on me, you air-head!”,  she snapped back. “It’s not my fault that you broke your neck and ended up falling into a hole! And I was merely trying to help, you ungrateful!”
“Like an annoying little fly could help me, huh! And if you really want to do me a favour, then just shut your mouth!” , said the Sharpener bitterly.
“You moronic-“, the Origami couldn’t complete spitting out her insult as she was soon interrupted by the Big Fat Golden Pen, the oldest of all pens on the table. He was the most respected pen in their society.
“Enough, you two! Fighting won’t do any good. Stop it already!” , the Big Fat Golden Pen ordered. The fight came to an end in an instance. Sharpener sighed.
“Hey, I’m sorry butterfly. I’m just… so useless. My only wish is to die right away.”
“Well, you can’t just die. You are a sharpener, for Heaven’s sake. You don’t even have a life in the first place!”,  replied the Origami Butterfly, still annoyed for being called an Annoying Little Fly.
“I wish to have my existence wiped out. Can’t I at least do that? My neck is broken and now I’m going to be thrown away. I am going to be turned into trash and sent to a very dirty place. I can get broken but I can’t die? Is that fair at all?” , the Sharpener complained.
“Well, you are going to die.” The Big Fat Golden Pen wisely spoke. “Even if you don’t die, you will be recycled to create the existence of a whole new sharpener. However, that way your existence itself will be wiped out. You will be forgotten. And that is what we call Death.”
“I will be forgotten? Why?” , the Sharpener protested. “I have sharpened so many pencils. I have been a faithful servant to my master for so long. And I will be forgotten just like that?”
“Dear Sharpener, there is no need to be sad about it. Everything eventually vanishes. So do their memories. One day, there will be no one to remember or to be remembered.”
“Until then?” , the Sharpener desperately asked.
“Until then, your fragments shall be used to reproduce another version of yourself. But the only thing it will have in common with you is your abilities as a sharpener. If the recycling is done properly, your abilities shall be passed onto the new ones and this process will go on. You’ll be remembered through them for a while.”
The girl stopped writing. “Yeah, like there aren’t enough humans in the world to be remembered.” She tore the page into pieces and threw them away.