The heat of the tin burns my finger.
A whistle blows.
Signaling the beginning of my day.
A train's arrival.
One more day.
I look in the cabinet for a cup.
Snowflakes. Cat. Blue. Orange.
Cat it is.
I pour a stream of steaming water.
The surface starts rising.
As it reaches the top the liquid begins to change.
A cloud of brown seeps out from the end of the single string.
First it flows down to the bottom.
Sinking before it leaches outward.
Like clouds of vapor.
Edging its way out.
Hot. Mysterious. Fleeting. Unreachable.
The deeper I gaze the more brown appears.
No drop is left unchanged.
I continue to pour.
But this too swirls into the misty whirls,
Till there's nothing but brown.
Water is a memory.
Close to what it used to be.
Yet something else entirely.
Misty. Dark. Encompassing.
"What the hell are you doing?"
I jerk my head up to see my roommate.
She stares at me.
A look of confusion etched into her forehead.
I glance down at my hands.
Red glistening fingers with newly forming blisters.
A shallow pool of liquid on the floor,
Clear against the flowered tiles.
"Oops. Mugs too small."
Should of used the Snowflakes.
Last edited on Wed Oct 7th, 2009 07:11 am by