Sunday, 23 March 2014

Styrofoam cup and souvenoirs.

The tea splashed a little from the sudden jump and she swallowed hard against the bounce. The scalding tea burned her chest with sudden heat that eventually subsided into a pleasant warmth. Hugging the teacup close, she ran her tongue over her dry lips, shrinking further into the tiny space she occupied. Her weary eyes scanned the scenes that ran past, through the window; the familiar territory and landscape slowly fading, merging into the unfamiliar and desolate surroundings.

Between the throng of people and the constant bouncy ride she sat stiffly, clutching the disposable cup that was, now the only souvenir she had from the land that she had left behind.

Every now and then she would be pushed right to the edge of the seat due to the gradually increasing crowd and her hand would jolt up fixing her scarf on her head. She didn't spoke to anyone neither did anyone bother with it.

Vulnerable and lone, she picked up herself when the bus stopped this time. Holding on to the cup with one hand and the front seat with the other she waited for the bus to stop. As the people started leaving while an equal amount of people barged in, she stared fixated at the small styrofoam cup in her hand. After much thought as she was pushed by people vacating and hogging seats she pushed the cup under the seat and stepped off the bus.

She never turned back but as the bus started moving the cup rolled out from under the seat and a little boy promptly picked it up and threw it outside



  1. I love how you create stories on simple events ... very beautiful :-)

  2. Oh wow, you have magic in your hands :)

  3. And I have missed this beautiful writing style. :)

  4. Beautiful, you have a way with words.

    Hopelessly Hopeful