The story about the coffee cup…

Once upon a time there was a coffee cup that was very sad. It had been standing on the bench for days, untouched. Nobody cares anymore it thought. She used to love me, to take me to the space next to the window every morning, to drink coffee from me. It was so nice to be warm and loved. Sometimes she would talk to herself, and I pretended it was to me. The way she held me, I felt I’d be safe in her hands forever. Sadly those days were over. She didn’t care anymore. Now she was drinking tea from that stupid mug on the other side of the bench. What did I do wrong? All I wanted was warm coffee and a loving touch in the morning. I made myself think I was special.

What if I could break that tea mug, then she would come back to me. Huh! That’s what I have to do. But how? The minute he thought it, the cat jumped up to the bench, wiggled his tale, and wiped me down to the floor. Ouch! Now there was two of me. Thank goodness I’m just a cup, I can’t feel pain. But then something unexpected happened.

She came running and raised her arms, screamed at the cat that was long gone; “That’s my favourite coffee cup!” She took me carefully up with her hands and put me on the bench, both pieces of me. “It was my favourite cup”, she cried. Then I felt something cold and sticky on my broken parts as she pushed me together again, she held me for a long time. I thought it was goodbye. But when she put me down I was fine, good as new. “Thank god for superglue”, she smiled.

The next day we sat next to the window again, she was holding me like before, full of warm hot coffee, and the stupid teacup was long forgotten. It’s nice to feel special.

The end.

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