Friday fictioneers: Delicate

It was all I could do not to scream in absolute despair when the removal people accidentally bumped into a table. Knocking my favourite China cup onto the wooden floor.

The delicate material shattered as it hit the floor. I rushed over and knelt down next to the remains. The man muttered to his apologies before picking up the box he had been initially carrying. He carried on with his job utterly oblivious to my pain.

It was merely a cup. I could easily buy another, as it wasn’t unique like a family heirloom. It was only special to me.

“Goodbye,” I whispered.

Prompt originally posted by Rochelle


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