#cotexreader

Holding the kettle gently, I watched the hot liquid flow into the porcelain cup until the last drip. He would often skip meals and later prohibit me from bringing in any kind of takeout in the council room, complaining that “the smell made me nauseous”, and it’s only when I get to hear him sigh with discontent and an expression full of distress that I get prompted to do these sort of things for him.

It was my way of showing affection.

“No thank you.”

He stood up before I could lay it down on his table. It wasn’t his first time rejecting my offer, but I was often hit with a sudden melancholic feeling, and perhaps― Perhaps if it was you he would have accepted it with a warm smile. But he left without much as a single word.

I still held it gently, as if it would drop at anytime and scatter with everything in it on the floor, which would make it sour. I was burnt from the incandescent heat sliding down my throat and blazing every sensitive part it touched as I buried the it in me. My insides twisted. I see, nothing would have changed,

As I thought,

It was bitter from the start,