A bit of coffee sits at the bottom of the mug. It isn’t
enough for a nice big gulp, and it’s much too cold now. If you look inside it,
you could sort of see your reflection. Muddled and warped, but still there.
“Hey me, at the bottom of the mug!” This smooth ivory receptacle has cinnamon
sprinkled all over its walls. Like freckles, speckled about, adding warmth and
character. It smells so good, but there’s so little left. I wish I had a fuller
cup of coffee.
They’re so sweet and refreshing on a hot summer day.
It’s weird though. Now this may not be true, but I once read
that pineapples contain some sort of flesh eating acid. I have not googled
this. But supposedly, that’s why it can make your tongue feel a bit scratchy,
like with kiwis. So as I munch on teeny pineapple chunks, I can’t help but
wonder if they’re secretly gnawing away at my stomach lining. It’s a terrifying
thought. But I love them anyways.
Thanks for persisting that we listen to rock every time we
drove in the car together. I hated your music, if only because I was kid, and
kids go against their parents. It’s in our nature. But I secretly enjoyed it.
And now I feel cultured. I know a bit about Queen and Deep Purple. I can sing
along to Billy Joel and White Snake. You made me like Rock n’ Roll and now I
get to steal your band T-shirts. I love you dearly.
See you next Friday
Side Note: I'm sorry for the picture dad. i took it randomly whilst you were brushing your teeth. I should've given you some time to properly pose. haha, but i like it!!
[ Write a short story using the title of three different books. ]
I wake at the sighs of a dreamful slumber. I can feel your
arms around me, entwined, so as to never let go. There is a soft glow on your
face cast by the moon which peeks through soft curtains. Its light shines atop
your skin as it travels through this whimsical twilight.