novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- the ceramic mug nightmares are made of My body is still weak from the weight of a three-day fever. I am plodding towards the break room in my office shoes, rubbing at the lines my foundation left on my cheeks. The foundation is supposed to make me look less dead. The only mug in the break room is a giant upside-down funnel of green and brown ceramic mastery. It has its own coaster fused to its bottom. I am tapping this sole as I walk back to my cubicle, imagining my limp toes getting caught on a snag of carpet, pulling me to the floor. The mug would fall but not break, thanks to its sturdy frame. It would bob in circles, flailing around me, like a fish out of water. 1:15 pm - 09.10.03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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