Cup of Tea and a Short Story

She opened her eyes and stretched. Sunlight filled the room. Yes it is morning! She blinked, she yawned. She wondered, briefly, if she should call out to ‘Boobs’ or perhaps she would go back to sleep. She waved her chubby hands in the air and studied them with intense interest. 

The Little Blue Torch

“Why does she think I’m a ‘phone?” asked the Little Blue Torch to the Pink Balloon.
“I’m clearly a torch! I light up! I shine!”
The Pink Balloon shrugged, he didn’t care much for the moody torch.

Where do all the tea spoons go? 

Where do all the teaspoons go?
I've hunted high! I've hunted low!
Do they dream a life of awe?
To see the world outside the draw?

The poor neglected handbag 

The handbag sat alone, discarded, empty. Gathering dust. Forgotten. How long had it been? Days? Weeks? Years?

There was once a time that the handbag had been cherished. Loved. Adored. Taken everywhere.

Memoirs of an overworked washing machine 

I recall a time when it was just me and him. He was all mine. He gave me one load a week and used my gentle cycle. I was serviced regularly.

Then she came. She came into his life and brought her ever-increasing mountain of dirty laundry with her. 

A Daydream 

The warm water looked so inviting. White, soapy bubbles bounced on the surface. Steam escaped into the cool air. She felt the tension in her shoulders ease a little. She allowed herself to drift away, to escape from the stress of the day.

The Peaceful Whisk 

The peaceful whisk wanted to love. He longed for love. Yearned for love.
He had a kind, soft heart.

When the book came out the peaceful whisk retreated to the back of the draw.

She started in the middle and worked her way out. Anyone observing would find it a little odd, but she wasn’t self conscious… she always ate pizza that way. She held her knife and fork awkwardly, at an angle, her elbows sticking out like a jolly policeman. The middle was the best bit. Cooked to perfection. To her, it was the only logical way to eat a pizza.

The Book Shop 

It was known as ‘The Book Shop’, although really it was a corner store, or a meeting place.  Yes, there were books, but they were old and dusty and part of the furniture. It was far from a thriving business and survived month to month on sales of fresh milk, bread and jam. 

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