Friday, June 12, 2009
The never-ending war
Under the still, dark waters something stirs. A bubble rises to the surface, breaks through the thin film of soapy residue, and pops. A close observer would see a ripple, a movement in the murky water.
Splash! A hand. Breaking through the water, clutching at the slippery edge of the scum-encrusted sink.
The sink will not be his lemon-scented grave after all. The dishes put up quite a fight, and they will never be completely defeated, but for now they are reduced in numbers and strength.
He is safe for now. Exhausted, but safe. A tea-towel draped across his shoulder ... a damp talisman of victory.
But lunchtime approaches. The dishes shall rise again. The battle will be rejoined. The war never ends.