Pencil: I'm sorry . . . I made a mistake again . . .
Eraser: Never mind, my dear . . . you didn't do anything so wrong that
it can not be corrected . . .
Pencil:I'm sorry . . . because you get hurt because of me. Whenever I
made a mistake, you're always there to erase it. In making my mistakes
vanish, you lose a part of yourself. You get smaller and smaller each
time.
Eraser:That's true. But I don't really mind. You see, I was made to do
this. I was made to help you whenever you do something wrong. I want
you to be correct . . . always.
Pencil:I am happy that you are always there to correct me. I do not
know how I will do without you . . .
Eraser:I know one day I'll be gone. But you'll replace me with a new
one or an alternative. I love to be with you and I'm actually happy
doing my job. So please, stop worrying. I hate seeing you sad. I wish,
eventually you will learn to do your job without the need for me.