“Describe in detail an every day object – a piece of fruit, a water bottle, or your beat-up old wallet”
The teacup sat neatly on the kitchen table, catching the midmorning light and holding it warmly. Like many teacups of its time, it was small and quaint, and had a small handle that would only barely allow two slender fingers to pass through. It had a pattern of pale pink roses linked together across the surface, meeting, but not touching, at the curved, statuesque handle. The roses were accompanied by forest green vines that contrasted against the pale cream background engulfing the entire cup, including its interior. On the inside of the cup, where we usually expect nothing but the uniform lack of colour, there was a tiny butterfly painted quaintly in shades of purple, like an artist’s signature.
It once held the company of a saucer, this teacup. Alas, in an unfortunate incident that also left the smallest of chips on our cup’s lip, it was gone. Thus, our cup sits in solitary quietude, absorbing the midmorning sunshine and waiting to fulfill its purpose.