Tea
Greetings,
It has come to my attention that I have not been writing as much as I used to/should. Being a college 4th-year college student definitely sucks the life out of you. But anyway.
I stumbled across a person who mentioned that she liked writing and that she was going to try "writing and tea" before bed. I was ecstatic. So from there, I was inspired to start on a new habit: to write 100 - 150 words every day, excluding rants. (I would've aimed for 300 words or more but knowing my schedule and all the things I have going on, this is the most I can do.)
So here it is, my first 100 - 150-word blurb. (I don't think "blurb" is the correct word to use in this context, but oh well. No college student's mind is ever clear enough to be on point anyway.)
Best,
It has come to my attention that I have not been writing as much as I used to/should. Being a college 4th-year college student definitely sucks the life out of you. But anyway.
I stumbled across a person who mentioned that she liked writing and that she was going to try "writing and tea" before bed. I was ecstatic. So from there, I was inspired to start on a new habit: to write 100 - 150 words every day, excluding rants. (I would've aimed for 300 words or more but knowing my schedule and all the things I have going on, this is the most I can do.)
So here it is, my first 100 - 150-word blurb. (I don't think "blurb" is the correct word to use in this context, but oh well. No college student's mind is ever clear enough to be on point anyway.)
-----
The tea is hot.
It’s been five minutes since the cup of orange spice black tea was set down onto a cluttered study table, steam rising from the tinted beverage. The table wiggles, and the translucent liquid sloshes left and right within the circular walls of the mug. Not a drop spills. The tea bag inside remains stagnant.
The mug is short and painted an ugly green, light enough of a shade to match the interior of a single-colored house yet dull enough to dim one’s eyes. Climbing out of the rim is a lone piece of string, a printed tag attached on its end as it braids around the mug handle. It hangs around lazily, accepting its fate as it is weighed down by the enlarging tea bag on its other end. A finger reaches to touch the mug and immediately recoils.
The tea is still hot.
It’s been five minutes since the cup of orange spice black tea was set down onto a cluttered study table, steam rising from the tinted beverage. The table wiggles, and the translucent liquid sloshes left and right within the circular walls of the mug. Not a drop spills. The tea bag inside remains stagnant.
The mug is short and painted an ugly green, light enough of a shade to match the interior of a single-colored house yet dull enough to dim one’s eyes. Climbing out of the rim is a lone piece of string, a printed tag attached on its end as it braids around the mug handle. It hangs around lazily, accepting its fate as it is weighed down by the enlarging tea bag on its other end. A finger reaches to touch the mug and immediately recoils.
The tea is still hot.
-----
And there we go. Thank you for reading. I will be back tomorrow. Or something.
Happy November!
Best,
Nukey Noor
Comments
Post a Comment