I had slipped into sleep and fell deeply.
Ten hours later.
I microwave a cup of coffee from an old pot.
Function over taste.
Immediacy and no waste.
I snatch the cup by its handle, immediately after the ding.
Heat radiates into the nerve endings of my fingers and palm.
Too quickly. Hot sensation becomes burning.
I hold the cup midair, as the realization is apprehended.
I will my hand to stay clasped about the handle.
I lower the mug to the counter.
No spill. Nothing dropped. No broken glass.
It takes two seconds but the difference seemed an odyssey.
Time slowed as I accomadated° a mini-crisis.
°Courted a-coma-date.
A Comma.
I pay attention to your punctuation.
WrittenCasey 