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[itsfineineverfeltloveanyway]

The Point-of-View of a Porcelain Mug and a Coffee Cup

“Is she okay?” the coffee cup asked.

“Eventually. I’ve seen many come and go. Some are here for a few days, weeks, and even months before she can spare the energy to move us.” I respond.

The cup looks around and sees a variety of kitchenware such as 3 forks, 6 wine glasses, and a cereal bowl. Clothes cover the bedroom floor like a carpet and beside us sits a granola bar wrapper and a lighter.

“How long have you been here?” the cup asked in a worried voice.

I look at my once antique pearly white interior that she received from her grandmother at her wedding in the 50s. I wince at the permanent brown ring that circles around me from a coffee that she made god knows how long ago. The “coffee” is now a gelatinous mixture that even the flies won't go near. I'm glad. I have seen too many horrible things that those creatures can do. I am very delicate and would probably cost quite a fortune today. I need to be hand-washed and avoid the dishwasher but I’m lucky if I even see the kitchen let alone the dishwasher.

“Don’t worry about that buddy,” I reply. He doesn't need to know what will happen to him until we get there. Maybe she will take a turn for the better. I say this like I didn't see her walk to the kitchen and return with a prescription bottle, pen and paper, and a knife.