The long neck was like a magnet. When bare and exposed it was commanding and shouting. I was not allowed to move further without giving it enough attention and touch. I had to touch it delicately with my lips, to leave a moist trail. I had to repeat the actions until the whole surface was covered in goosebumps. Only then I could move down the twisting image.

A few months ago, I bought a mug with gold gilt. On sale. Not a gift either nor because of an occasion to remember by it. Just plain, pretty mug for 15PLN. I drank my coffee from it since. I spat loose tea leaves into it. It never felt particularly significant. An ordinary object. Only when I lost it, I realised its true value. I sat comfortably at my desk one evening. Looking at my phone, I reached to take my song-text notebook. Trivial situation. My clumsy fingers were unable to avoid the mug. They allowed it to topple over, to slip from the desktop. Even though I did not see the split-second occurrence, I felt the pressure of unease. My head painted the trajectory of the fall on its own, the shattering, spillage. The loss. For a millisecond I still had hope, that I would be able to catch the mug, that I would be able to avoid what was about to happen. But I knew I was headed for failure. I don't have any superpowers. I only scalded my fingers. I looked at the mug's new shape for a long while, at the shattered pieces. At the spilling liquid. Our adventure came to an end. Irrevocably. I won't be drinking coffee from it anymore, nor spit tea leaves into it. Well. I shouldn't be sad, it was just a regular mug, just like thousands of others. I grew to like it, it kept me company throughout hundreds of warm drinks. I lost it. I hate this feeling the most. In the moment when I am losing something, I stop in my tracks, I hold my breath. It is always a very intense moment. A short one, but one that gives me the tight unpleasant feeling in my stomach. The feeling of loss is always accompanied by hope. Silly and naïve. Making me believe so strongly, that I can make it. That I will still be able to catch the mug mid-flight. When the feeling is entering the body, crawling into me I realise, how important it was to me. Whether it's Nivan or a stupid mug with gold gilt.

"𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐈 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬?" - 𝐊. 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨: This story is Slowburn, follows a couple of months after the epilogue and is accurate/realistic. WARNING: My writing style is very detailed, so if you aren't into detailed writing, please either leave or skip scenes. Please don't leave comments regarding my very detailed writing. ──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────── 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨 𝐢𝐧 "𝐏𝐭: 𝟎 - 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨" 𝐔𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐞: Every Saturday - Anytime Every Wednesday - Anytime 𝐆𝐨𝐚𝐥: 45k votes by August 5th

── ❛ can you feel my heartbeat? when you hit it full speed anywhere you take me i'll go ❜ ⋆˚࿔ ⌗ matthew sturniolo x fem!oc ❪ ongoing. . . ❫ ⋆˚࿔ stand alone. social media x irl au - ──────────────────── 𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛 ╱ corinne's been forced against her will to pack up and move from oregon to boston. she's a quiet introvert who just wants to finish senior year without any complications, until she makes a mistake that ruins everything. ── .✦ ❝ let me just say this, i'm not here to kiss you again, matt. ❞ ❝ i wouldn't complain if you were. ❞