It is half past nine on a cool Sunday evening.
"Who is at my door?" I queried.
"It' is I," he replied.
"Come in," I said nonchalantly.
"Greetings, your majesty. You requested a cup of tea so I brought it to you." He carried it to my bed.
"You know I don't like tea, Michael." I shrugged at the cup and gave it a disgusting look.
"O-oh." His eyes widened.
"Hurry along now Michael. Get me a cup of coffee."
"B-but M'lady, you don't drink coff--"
"Do as I say, Michael."
"R-right."
*Five minutes has passed*
"I am back with your coffee, your highness."
"Very well." I took a sip.
"Ugh so bitter Michael. Just like your soul."
"Wh-How does this coffee--"
"I know you don't love me Michael. You purposely didn't put enough sugar." I sighed in disappointment.
"Ok you know what. I am sick of this role play shit. If you want more sugar, walk yourself into the kitchen and put it in yourself. Goodnight."
"See, you don't love me Michael. Even the smallest things you get angry at."
*Sigh* "Fine, give me your cup."
"So you do love me Michael. I love you too."
"Shut up."
YOU ARE READING
hiddenfeelings
Short StoryA book filled with made up scenarios that derives from things I see, things I feel emotionally and mentally. Including poems? Maybe. Very rare though. But, Enjoy.
