Double Cream, No Sugar

It's paint was even more chipped now then before as Kat took it out from the back of the cupboard. It had served what seemed like a life-sentence of not being put to any use. The pink eighties-inspired polka dots were still there on the teal background, the same huge dent missing from where she had dropped it one time going to give him his morning cup. The two large trophies were still there, and the words "World's Greatest Dad."

She turned on the faucet and rinced away the dust, ran it over once or twice with the dishcloth for good measure and set it on the counter. It was eerie, the way it sat there like it had not that long ago, but too long to quite remember. Kat remembered the day she gave him this mug. It was for Father's Day, even though like always, Dad didn't want any presents. But she knew he loved it, even though it was probably only from the local dollar-store. Kat could see herself smiling up at him, grin-bearing, wearing a little short-and-t-shirt set, with her hands behind her back, very proud of herself. He smiled, scooped her up into his arms and said, "Thanks Girlie! Now we have to teach you how to make your Old Man coffee like a real slave!"

The cup faded back to present day. It was older now. Faded, chipped, stained. Just like Dad.

She poured in the coffee, double cream, no sugar, just the way he liked it, and sat down at the desk for another extended session of writting. She drank deep, it had been a long night. And now, un-like before, she was actually able to drink coffee.

She sometimes wondered why he never wanted the little mug. Why he never called the little mug and asked it to do things with him. Why he never offered the little mug a place to stay or to come with him. Why he left the little mug behind.

But at least now it kept her company.