It had been dark and uncomfortable in the box that Stapler had been in. It had been so soon after his creation—shoved mercilessly into the cramped container that held him hostage for so long. It was so lonely in there—before his boxing, there’d been other staplers too—and the only thing he could do was wait for it to be opened. He couldn’t even make the slightest attempt to escape it.
But one day, the box did open, and he slid out of it, onto a hard, slick surface. Something large was leaving the area, he could tell that much, but he was, once again, being left in the dark, alone.
That didn’t last, though.
The darkness soon became light, blinding, beautiful, perfect light—a gorgeous display of phototechnics, the likes of which Stapler had never seen. This artist, this…creator of beauty…
Lamp. Her flowing curves, that gorgeous shade, everything about her was absolutely perfect.
And that first sighting was the day that Stapler fell in love with Lamp, the light of his world.