It was all my fault. I never lost my love for you, but I ignored you. I looked away for just a second, and you were gone. I had no idea the depths of despair and danger. Then I heard the splat. I looked down in horror and disbelief. I knew our time was over. No more laughs. No more early mornings, just us together remembering the good times.
Those days are now gone, and I’m alone. Your destroyed remains are all over the place, and now the work begins: picking up the pieces, literally. A piece here, another there, all glistening with your… I hate to say it… liquid.
We met a few years ago, and now you’re gone. I will now have to settle for the drab, impersonal replacement. The fake and cold. The one just showing up to perform a task, like a cheap hooker. I deserve it. I should have been more caring, and I will miss you.
Now I’m off to fill that plain metal coffee cup from work. The Seinfeld mug is gone.
I know… just more yada, yada, yada.
A heartbreaking goodbye, a guilty confession, and one tragic accident. Sometimes losing your favorite coffee mug hurts more than you’d admit.
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