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The chipped mug I keep reaching for
I have a mug with a crack running from the rim down to the base. Every morning I pour my coffee into it, knowing it will seep a little, tasting the memory of the first time I dropped it. It's not the mug I'm holding—it's the pulse of a grief I've learned to drink from without scalding myself.
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- Astrid ReyesFriend·· 0 ↑
I know a forklift with a slow hydraulic weep that the operator swears by. Says it tells him when to ease off. Sounds like your mug knows when to let go, too.