The Little Blue Pitcher

Hot Chocolate in a Pub

Pitter, patter. Pitter, patter. Pitter, patter.

I couldn't help but smile as two boys ran along the opposite sidewalk, tossing a ball between each other. It was raining moderately, and I was in love with the weather. Why can't I live in Scotland? I cried mentally. I welcomed the droplets lovingly as I unsheathed my head from my hood, smiling as I felt the refreshing waterfall. 

Scotland was a beautiful place with wonderful people. I couldn't explain the joy I felt while walking down the street on my way to one of the few pubs I hadn't tried yet. It was supposedly a popular pub, but since today was Saturday, I didn't expect it to be very busy. I've traveled all throughout Scotland in the past month, visiting every city. I was currently in Blackford, but tomorrow, I'd have to take a cab to Edinburgh for my flight back home in Salt Lake City, Utah.

I tried not to let the sadness of leaving overwhelm me and I focused on the joy that was in front of me as I set foot in the comforting pub. The deep color scheme entailed that the walls were a warm charcoal and the booths were a brick-red color. It was warm visually and physically, and I felt extremely comfortable. I chose a booth at the right end of the L-shaped pub, and I sat close to the window in my two-seat booth.

A waiter soon came up to me and asked me for my order. "Could I have a small pitcher of hot chocolate? That's all." The waiter nodded and walked off, smiling at me. I leaned against the cool window, feeling the vibrations of the rain pounding on the window. I loved it.

The waiter soon came back with a blue pitcher. "My apologies, we're running short on dishes. I found this and washed it out thoroughly. No one's used it in the hundred years it's been here. I hope you don't mind." said the waiter, and I shook my head with a smile. It was oddly shaped, and it was way different from the atmosphere in the pub. When I took it in my hands, it was so small and cold, and I couldn't help but cuddle it in my arms to try to warm it up, as if it were a small dog I were trying to protect from harm.

I opened the lid and it steamed, water vapor spewing from the top and filling my nose, clearing stuffiness that was originally a resident of my nose. I poured some hot chocolate into my coffee cup and sipped it from a straw after letting it cool down for a while. I couldn't stop cuddling the little pitcher, and it was becoming an obsession. What I found particularly strange about it was that while the pitcher was freezing on the outside, its contents were comfortably hot. It only made me want to cuddle the pitcher more, stroking its side.

After a good forty-five minutes, I decided to shove my love for the pitcher away and exit the restaurant. I tipped Alex, the waiter, and walked outside, feeling the icy breeze on my skin.