The apartment wasn't what he would have wanted. Dark, dingy and an air heavy. Almost oppressive like a thick blanket that smothered everything around it.
Along the wall dented boxes with worn tags sagged like tired travelers. The man moved slowly. Not because he was tired, but because he was reluctant to look inside and begin the inevitable.
at the bottom of a box simply labeled “kitchen” his hands brushed against something small and delicate. Pulling it out he squinted and held it up in the dim light.
It was a small child’s cup. Not just any cup…his cup. He immediately recognized the cartoon like balloons on the side. A flood of memories washed over him like a montage. Sitting on the couch watching cartoons, sipping from the tiny cup, turning his head to smile happily at his mom. Feeling safe. Loved.
He turned the cup over in his hands. It’s once bright colors now like a ghost. It’s rim chipped. The handle cracked. The insides stained and scarred.
he smiled sweetly, only for a moment, then his vision slipped away. The cup was worn, neglected, broken. Moving from place to place, carrying cracks invisible to the world. Once bright and full, now empty and faded. Just like him.
He lowered himself quietly onto the couch, it groaning under his weight and simply stared at the cup tears welling in his eyes. Almost half expecting for it to respond or say sone thing, maybe welcome him. But it didn’t. It sat there in silence, chipped and faded mirroring him. And in that silence the shadows grew longer marking the evenings passage as he let the sadness settle, heavy and real.
Hello!! This is my first attempt at a free write in 5 years. I used to post often on Hive under the name HiDave. Here is my submission to this prompt.
@daily.prompt/21-september-2025-mariannewests-freewrite-writing-prompt-day-2867-cup
Hope everyone enjoyed it. Hope to talk soon!
