Once again I do not know what to write about.
I think it’s funny that I’m more easily able to write about not knowing what to write about than I am able to write about something else.
I’ll see how much I can write in a stream-of-conscious fashion, even though that’s how I usually write (I think).
There was once a person who was sipping from a cup of tea.
Their sips were slow and methodical; almost as if they were intentionally drinking in the style they were.
They could feel the wisps of steam gently kiss their face as the aromas tickled their nostrils and the flavours danced gracefully on their tongue.
As they moved the round mug from their face and toward their desk a small crease in the corners of their mouth appeared, finding deep satisfaction in their hot drink.
The cup met the desk with a quiet thud, resting gently against the lacquered mahogany.
The person reclined in their chair, soaking in the morning sun peering through the window that was greeting them whilst they relaxed and found a brief moment of clarity.
The person closed their eyes and let their mind wander through fields of green and thoughts of motion as poetry and the strength of the human form when moving to rhythm to embody it; to give it form.
They reopened their eyes and adjusted themselves to be upright so they could reach for their tea to sip the remaining liquid.
Once they finished it, they rose from their seated position and casually wandered to their kitchen to boil more water for a second helping of tea for their morning.
Normally they wouldn’t do this but this day was a special day, for it was a day that they were able to relax as they had been working for a large consecutive number of days.
It was more than fifteen.
They waited until the waited began to boil. Once it did, they carefully removed the kettle from the stove and poured it into their mug, filling it close to the top. They then returned to where they were sitting previously and after a few minutes began to sip again.
As they used the same bag as before, the tea wasn’t as strong.
Despite its reduced state, the person still found the tea to be wonderful.
After a while they fell into a deep sleep and dreamed of things they wanted to do in the future; travel, recreation and education-based activities that would help them feel as though they were having a fulfilling life the way they dictated.
They slept long and peacefully.
They woke up slowly and, finding that their tea was still warm, resumed sipping it peacefully, enjoying the morning sun until they decided to get changed and head out to take on the day that presented itself to them.
The end.
That’s all I can muster.
It’s certainly not the best thing I’ve written but… it’s not the best thing I’ve written.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 20:58:67
Might be a few seconds off as I accidentally stopped the stopwatch halfway through.
A bit faster than last night but not as fast as I hoped.
Will be faster tomorrow.
Stupidity Hole 