… and then to just pour out of the cracked cup. Not from the rim like most people do – no – rather you’d be slowly tick tocking, drip dropping, out of the cup from the ruggedness of the crack. You won’t be so watery like most people are; you’d be thick like the consistent lumpiness of hot Swiss chocolate. Chocolate is thicker than blood in this case. You’ll be sort of ruinous to the niceties on the table, damaging to the white cloth decked on there, tainting everything with melted richness. You’d be easier to clean up than to drink at that point… but the smell of cocoa is soothing and somewhat childish and everyone forgives you for being you. Even the man who hates chocolate, he is staring at your clumsiness on the other end of the table. Terrified of maybe having to end up like you. His eyes change from an A-major to a G-minor. No one, but you, can see him trace his finger on the concealed crack of his cup.
by Beisan Alshafei
Written around October, 2020
Beisan's Burble 