No more poetry *does a small dance*, well for now at least. Each week, I will take a random object and form a story around it. It sounds lengthy, watch... I'll soon be missing poetry attempts by next week.
The sun gazes through the dented and dusty blind, almost illuminating the porcelain mug. It's a sign to John, he needs more coffee. John is a teacher of Science, a pioneer of physics amongst his class of 6-7 year old's. He heads down the long narrow halls, head hung and feet dragging at a snails pace. His mind wonders from the thoughts of emptiness to the thoughts of nothingness, yet he can't decipher the difference of the two.
His wrinkled hands push against the pane of glass, confined within the door leading into the teachers lounge. As he enters, there are three, maybe four teachers sitting around chatting. John fails to pay them any attention. They look on at him; John is convinced they are judging, but he can't really be sure. In fact, poor old John isn't sure of anything any more, lost with the motions of planet Earth, his existence is rarely noticed any more.
He leans against the cabinet sticking his hand in the water that has previously leaked from the now boiling kettle. John stares on at the bubbling water backlit by the blue light, Why is it blue he wonders? Why not green? Is this what my life has become? Stagnant thoughts covered by a lack of zest, never to be fulfilled again.
John pours the steaming water into his mug, splashing even more water at the side. As the coffee grains mix and swirl, he's looks on into the black ocean of caffeine soon to be consumed. But John is already consumed, by guilt, by loss for what he has done.
As he looks at his coffee cup and sees the words 'worlds best dad', he is overcome with the reoccurring sadness, punished by his one catastrophic mistake. John will never drink and drive again.
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