The Cup

Breakfast as seen by a coffee cup

A/N: This is a short writing exercise. It just wouldn't leave me alone.

Every morning I'm yanked out of my dark hiding space in the cupboard and rinsed with cold water. I welcome this because it wakes me up and makes me excited for a new day of work. Next I am placed on a table next to a plate with scrambled eggs on it. Just once would I like to taste them, but such pleasures shall forever remain out of reach. I hear a low rumbling sound and know what comes next. A few way too short minutes later scalding hot liquid is poured into me. I scream but nobody hears me.

Then, as if to sooth away the pain, soft lips caress my burning skin and sip the liquid inside. As the liquid cools down and becomes ever less, I know my day is about to end. The last few drops are slurped out of me and the soft lips leave my skin. Then cool water washes away the last of the pain and I am returned back home to wait for the next morning.

Author's Note

I've always had the feeling that something is seriously wrong with this, but just can't put my finger on it. Help?

Reviews

[Alex Paul]

Venicia has a rather unique way of making the mundane interesting. The cup takes an every- day object, in this case the cup of the title and breathes life and personality into it in just a few short words. I like the way the author views the world and the ordinary I would like to read some longer chapters