Her Favorite Mug | By: Rebekah Lee Johnson | | Category: Short Story - Despair Bookmark and Share

Her Favorite Mug

Its dark in the cupboard next to the fridge where the owners favorite mug sits in waiting for that moment the soft sound of footsteps to come and open its cupboard to find its being drank out of by the owner. 
The mug sits in darkness until the light streaming from wall to wall shines into the small cracks of the cupboard door, he feels a cool breeze for a brief moment before getting swept up by warm, careful hands that made the mug feel it belonged and was happy. 
The owner sets the mug on the counter and pores a warm substance in the empty mug. The mug finds this warmth delightful. He loves when his gentle owner sips out if his edge with their soft lips, the vibration of what the owner was saying or doing while he sits in their hands thin, gentile grasp. She was singing with the radio and marking jobs in the newspaper. 'THE NEW UNIVERSE' was a book the owner read plenty and had read it quite a few times, the mug has too since she holds him whenever she reads or watches tv or looking for jobs. The mug knows her favorite tv shows and books. The mug knows how she likes her coffee and he can always tell how she feels by how she holds him and the level of her voice protecting off of objects and walls, her pulse also helps him tell how she feels and her emotions. 
He sees her reflection off himself, the shape of her, her motions, how she carries herself. 
The mug has a bond with his owner in a way that people don't always.
The owner runs warm water into the sink and suds it up and scrubs the mug in its comfortable bath and then air dries on a rack when she goes to work and then comes home to find her favorite mug waiting for her on the rack. She scoops ice cream and chocolate syrup and chocolate chips into the mug and watches tv or a foreign film.
The mug sits happily in its cupboard waiting once again.
He hears footsteps and struggles and things being thrown, something hits the cupboard open and the mug can hear it now, the sound of a knife being pulled out of its wooden block and slashing across something the mug once knew. The mug is splattered by crushed veneer.
The mug is vibrated towards the edge and falls to the floor and chatters at its owners side in a puddle of blood and crushed veneer.


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