Her Paraphernalia of Existence

An unfinished magazine copy sits at her favorite spot in our lounge area.

While a little bit tea licks the bottom of her mug at her work desk.

Not long ago, she was too occupied with something that she sipped the too-hot tea and killed the tiny taste buds of her tongue.

Her eyeglasses had been carefully lying atop her blue book, The Tenant on Wildfell Hall, and at the side, she had carefully placed a boiled egg so that it won’t roll and break itself on the tiled floor.

She had reserved the egg for a time of hunger; the egg is filling and is practically eaten by those who want to be full without the unnecessary guilt.

She is cluttered and neat at the same time; her work desk tells you so.

Who would’ve thought that these things, her belongings, will soon be orphaned?

That the unfinished mag will only be finished by another colleague? That the tea, book, eyeglasses, and even the egg — will sit waiting for a while, only to be picked by her boss? The objects that prove that she used to exist will be placed in a box, and then handed down to her mum who’s drained in anguish and grief.

Belonging to no one, the tea, the book, the eyeglasses, and the rotting boiled egg will remain inside the box…

Only to be touched by the gloved hands of an investigator.

11:43 AM


2 thoughts on “Her Paraphernalia of Existence

  1. In space. People are redundant. Alice knew peeking at the book her sister was reading, it’s not easy to have a book without pictures or conversations. But you, with your licking tea cup.

    • Wow. I have never thought of that. But you are right: we are redundant. Good thing we knew how to amuse ourselves every now and then.

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