The paper cup lifted off like a bird inspired to fly by nothing more than it’s primal instinct to move. It had lain dormant in the back of a pickup which hurtled down the highway at breakneck speed, now dashing in between lanes of drowsy commuters navigating their way home through a haze of their own thoughts. It flashed before my eyes and froze for a moment, turning slowly as we acknowledged each other only as bundles of matter tied together with string. I roused myself to rejoin the real world again with one persistent and nagging thought, “Who the hell is going to pick up that stupid cup! What’s wrong with people letting their garbage spill all over the road. What a jerk!”
Written by Bill
