Slice of Life 2019: Day 27
A bottle of crystal clear water was perched upon a red table. Undisturbed in every way, even the lid was fully intact. The blue label was turned such that I couldn’t see its frontal view, but I knew that label. The cheap, grocery store brand was ubiquitous at soccer games, picnics, races. Now it was full, undisturbed, refracting light through its opaque, slender container. I knew the taste too: clean, pure, the slightest suggestion of mineral on the tongue. The aroma was likely to be air itself, not easily discernible; although, I’ve detected a slight vitality just when I’ve unscrewed the cap. At the moment of squeezing the top from the bottle, soaking my hand and wrist with the pressure of twisting the too-weak plastic neck, I’ve smelled the clarity.
What I would give to sip the refreshing contents of that water vessel. My throat is parched and yearning for the cool liquid refreshment upon my tongue. My head feels light with dehydration. My fingers trembling with desire. Two or three sips would do. Perhaps, if I reach and grab the thing, its owner will not notice.