My finger trembled, pressed SELECT. Your catalogue entry left me unable to resist.
Hidden motors whirred. The shutter opened. You couldn’t see me but you knew; your posture told me. They always knew. You sat with catlike defiance with a glimmer in your eyes I ached to snuff out.
But I’d never own you. Not me, who'd sat in a capsule like yours. An actual Person would master you. My Owner, busy, left me to browse and dream. An impossible, rebellious dream.
I turned away.
I can't remember.
The restlessness remained. Was I once like you? Did my eyes glimmer?
Based on last week's prompt on Thimbleful.