A single fragment of a cookie remained on the plate. It was the final vestige of the time they had spent together.
He had remained single all his life. Those with whom he shared his days had dwindled away, one by one. The solitary morsel before him was the last thing left behind by the very last of them. Beside it sat a cup of coffee, still trailing wisps of steam.
He could not put his emotions into words. It was as if he couldn’t find the right language to accompany his fractured feelings. With a trembling hand, he held a half-finished teacup, unable to bring himself to set it back down on the saucer. There was no longer anyone there, but placing the cup down would mean acknowledging that reality. As if in defiance, he gripped the handle with desperate intensity. His grip reached its limit; he could no longer control the force of his hand. His fingernails dug into his skin, and he began to bleed.
Then, unable to withstand the pressure, the handle of the cup snapped with a sharp crack. He cried out, reaching down to catch the falling cup.
“Hey, did you drop a cup again?” Looking up, he saw his father scolding his mother.
“Oh, I’m sorry. It just slipped,” his mother replied lightheartedly.
“It’s because big brother was wandering around too close,” his sister chimed in.
“Sorry. I just really wanted to eat the cookies,” he answered.
“Honestly. That was the last fragment, you know. You’re so selfish, always wanting things for yourself. If you’re that greedy, no one will ever like you,” his mother teased, scolding him.
With trembling hands, he grabbed the cookie and put it in his mouth. It tasted salty from his tears and metallic from his blood. Clutching the broken cup, he searched for the saucer. Though it should have been right in front of him, he couldn’t see it. Or perhaps, he simply refused to look. It was as if, for the cup held in his hand, the matching saucer could no longer be found.
