'Mr. Butterfingers'

Broken coffee mugs have always been my thing. I remember my friends used to call me 'Mr. Butterfingers' back in 7th grade.

The weather seems to be surprisingly calm today. The sun hasn't completely faded away yet, but it seems to be dark already. The steam from the coffee blurs my spectacles. There's a wedding in the neighborhood.

The traditional music, the occasional detonation of a cracker in the sky and the periodic shrieks of children ending in blared laughter tell me about this. I have a test on Monday, and I haven't started working on it yet. I'm not sure if I would either.

I guess chasing deadlines, and the sweet delirium that topping a test brings with it has faded away lately. Oh, damn! I dropped the coffee mug.