The Cup Watches

The cup stands on the table to the left of the computer, trembling slightly from vibrations in the floor. The desk is unsteady, as if standing on three legs, ungainly, ugly. More pleasing to the eyes, the computer breaths softly in its sleep, the soft light gently pulsing like a heartbeat. Sleek, metallic, a new laptop with hardly a mark on it. Either it's very new, or the owner takes special care to keep it clean and free of scratches. On the ceiling the harsh lights, the ones left, reflect against the screen, making a type of glaring screen saver as the computer also shakes. People walk down the halls, past the room with the desk and the computer and the cup. Water in the cup rides back and forth, up and down, shaking around the pictures painted on the cup. Large snowman eyes stare straight out at the computer, carrot nose pointing to the ragged chair. The sides of the cup are worn, the pictures pale, there's a chip around the back. Echoes sound through the old walls of the building, causing the water to slosh again. Is the computer the only new thing around? Well if it is, it doesn't know what's happening. It doesn't understand the tremors, the neglect, the stares of the object to its right. The cup seems to be smiling at the computer's innocence, and seems to be saying, "I'll be watching you."