The bland, grey door opened. A world full of billions of colours, full of Lost Things just like me! I was ecstatic, my owner and I could live together in a paradise. But then I realised my owner could not live with me here. He had owners; he was not a Lost Thing. I would be lonely in this world, or alone in the human world. My eye-sensors drooped. With my claw I jangled a bell solemnly. My owner thought this meant I was happy. He backed out of the Lost Thing paradise, and flicked a switch. The door began to close, symbolising the infinite gap that will separate us for the rest of our lives. I sort of waved using my bells, and he waved back. I hoped he would be happy without me, although part of me wanted him to be so sad he would come back to rescue me.
I turned around to observe the scenery. Colours burst out at all directions. There were so many Lost Things: one had an old television screen that turned flipped to create a moving image, like a flip chart; another looked like a moving chess board, which an accordion and a robotic bird were playing chess on. A bird-cage that had a pulsing heart-like thing inside had a swan decoration on the top of it. I walked across rolling, golden hills (like a desert, only more beautiful and not as hot) I thought, and “Maybe this isn't that bad?"
Later that day, I found a house where Lost Things that were new to the area could stay for a while. It was difficult for the housekeeper to find a room big enough for me. It was ten metres tall, with a seven-metre-tall door to a bathroom. I wandered down to the communal living room and played chess with the accordion thing I had seen earlier. As I triumphantly announced, “Checkmate!” I felt like I was going to enjoy Lost Thing Paradise…
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