A Small Sip

I was propped up on a blanket between two rigid plastic figures. Neither seemed inclined to move. Fine by me. Then my fingers loosened, and the plastic cup nestled against my arm tilted slightly. Real weight. The straw bumped softly against my plush cheek. I blinked, tested the bend in my wrist, and gave the cup a tiny tap. It made a faint hollow sound. Alive, it seems. And holding a drink.