Pencil and Eraser.
Pencil: You know, I'm really sorry.
Eraser: For what? You didn't do anything wrong.
Pencil: I'm sorry, 'cause you get hurt because of me. Whenever I make a mistake, you're always there to erase it. But as you make my mistakes vanish, you lose a part of yourself. You get smaller and smaller every 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. Even though, one of these days, I know I'll be gone and you have to replace me with a new one, I'm actually happy with my job. So please, stop worrying. I hate seeing you sad :)
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