Talking Lamps

There is someone living inside my lamps. I know it sounds strange, but please, let me explain. There is someone, two different people actually, living inside my pair of lamps. I’ve heard them talk, I’ve heard them reminisce about the many homes where they’ve lived, and most importantly, I’ve heard them talk about me. Gladly, I believe they like me.

I know it’s hard to comprehend, and if someone would be telling this to me I probably would not believe it, but there are two people living inside my pair of lamps, and they talk quite a bit. They are a man and a woman, and they talk about the places they have been, and the different cities they have seen, but always whispering, and they quiet down when I walk into the room.

I knew quickly there was something special about the lamps, since the very first time I saw them. They looked so alive, or perhaps they only looked alive to me, but there was something in them that spoke to them. I also sensed something special about them, because the guy who sold them to me was so odd.

I live in a small town, and salesmen come and go, but they tend to be always the same guys. Living here for a while, I have come to know all of the salesmen who come to town with curiosities. They already know where I live, and knock on my door with things that could interest me. But, the salesman who came with the lamps was someone I had never seen before, and of course, he has never come back since.

I bought the lamps because they spoke to me, because they made me feel something special, someone may say they gave me the light I had been missing for a few years now. All I wished now is that they could talk to me, and not only to each other. I’ve realized all of the things I have bought through the years have always said something to me, but I have never said much to them. Today that will change, tonight I will talk to the people inside my pair of lamps, and we will reminisce about the people we have seen.