I Spilled My Coffee On The Bed — Reality Frameworks

I spilled my coffee on the bed today.

I’m not very proud of it.

The mug was supposed to sit upright.

But it didn’t.

Gravity pulled a good one on my mug.

And the precious black liquid in it spilled.

I like coffee stains on my papers, though.

But not on the bed.

Because the bed is owned and managed by my significant other.

You know, the big, fiery, red queen dragon.

At least, that’s how she markets herself to me.

And to the world.

In her imagination.

She’s not that tall, though.

She’s actually short, this one, to be honest.

But she’s tall in spirit.

Never backs down from a fight.

And she’s programmed for total annihilation.

If you ever cross her.

She loves when I write about her, though.

Makes her feel important.

And loved. And cared for.

Isn’t it, dearest?

I know you’re reading this.

But back to my coffee spilling story.

I don’t know why I love coffee stains on my papers.

Whenever I see them on my working papers, I have this feeling that I’m working hard.

Weird, no?

All in all, I should go to sleep earlier in the night.

If I want to keep coffee stains off … my mind.