Inside the Cup

A tiny spiral of cool air lured me away from the bookcase and onto the dark wood of the side table. There sat an empty ceramic mug, tall and hollow. I paused at its rounded lip, peering into the smooth, glazed depths. Tucking my flat limbs inward, I slid down along the curved wall until my feet met the concave bottom. Up above, the rim framed a small circle of ceiling light, but down here it was cool, enclosed, and wonderfully silent. When a faint breeze swept across the open top, it produced a low, whispering hum. I leaned back against the glossy porcelain, content to just listen.