For 21 years, she was a plastic bag. Your plastic bag. Whenever you needed to grab groceries, the bag was there, in your trunk. Every once in a while, the bag would get a hole in it, and then another. One day it had three. And the next day, when you opened your trunk, there was not a plastic bag, but a girl who you had never seen in your life. Who was she? How did she get in here? Have I been pulled into something horrible? And where had the plastic bag gone? (after 21 years I think you'd notice this...)

Plastic Bag looked at you, sad that you didn't recognize her after you had known each-other for so long. A plastic bag became a human. But as they say, once a bag, always a bag. There is no escape from the life of a bag.

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