It began with a drink I never meant to brew.
I reached for honeyvine, but my hand found gristlebark.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsalrcg6J86
Water boiled without heat. The mug clinked twice by itself.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcb7Ky5TloT
And the steam rose crooked.
Before I could pour it away, it shivered.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnoJKjx8txa
Then blinked.
Yes. The drink blinked.
A small wet eye in the middle of the foam.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOMKlwehiQv
No shape. No face. Just a quiet, pulsing awareness.
It hissed, but not angrily. More like a baby unsure of air.
Then it said:
"I was made. What am I?"
I did not answer. I could not.
It rolled across the bar like a slug wrapped in warmth.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYmu4hWIxWQ
Left a trail that smelled like memory rot and burnt sugar.
It spoke again.
"Give me a name. Or I will stay like this."
I wanted to deny it. Pour salt. Burn it. Forget.
But the fire did not react.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3j8inqZht8
It waited.
So I gave it a name.
One I will not write here.
The thing sighed, collapsed into its shape, and evaporated into the ceiling.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡotd511ks0G
I don’t know where it went.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOzwZhrc22v
I hope I never see it again.
But every so often, when I brew without thinking, the mug shudders slightly.
And I smell burnt sugar.
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