The sentimental life of objects

The Pimm's bottle, almost empty, misses your hands. Your impatience taking the top off and pouring out its contents. Liquid on liquid, spilling. The urge of consuming it all, until there is nothing left.

Strawberries, ice, mint. On your lips. Only a memory.

The bottle is still there. Surrounded by a landscape of incongruous objects: pencil, goggles, candles, cake. Out of place. Yearning for the sun and for the touch of your fingers.