Thursday, August 23, 2012

Lonely Cup

I'm walking through town. Stomping, if you like. Walking quickly in order to hop on the underground and zip to Crickets house on the south of the river. If I remember correctly, Boomtown Rats are explairing that they don't like a certain day of the week.
~*~
Outside Hmv sits a small child's beaker. A pink affair with handles and a sipper style lid. Obviously a child has dropped it and not noticed.
~*~
What's this? Someone walking towards it?
~*~
I cannot take my eyes off him. A tall man in a black leather jacket walks over to the beaker. Slowly looks around before crouching down. He loses his balance and uses the wall as an aid. Still looking around, he slyly picks up the tippy cup and raises it to his mouth.
~*~
Surely not...



Yep.
~*~
He takes a swig. Holding it like a hipflask. He tilts his head back. The sun hits his face to show beads of sweat on his brow. He is a broken sweaty little man. He knows it's wrong but he's in need. He's tired, he's thirsty. It has come to this.
~*~
It's empty.
~*~
He swears quite loudly and throws the beaker on the floor. Before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bottle of irn bru... he had a drink all along? What?
~*~
Strangely, that wasn't even the strangest part of my day.

1 comment:

Tasmin Rhianne said...

I was thinking awwww...
and then my awwwww turned to...
oh.
And now i don't know what to make of it ;)