My Pumpkin-faced coffee stain

 I apologize for the redundancy of this particular blog submission (as opposed to the redundancy of all of the rest of my blog submissions) as I veer back to an already-explored topic: Prophetic pictures emerging mysteriously from spilled coffee stains. Fortunately, this one wasn't rated X. Nevertheless, the malicious pumpkin-faced grin met me every morning as I adamantly refused to wipe it up because I DO NOT USE the Keurig machine.

Day One was filled with hope as I imagined the culprit suddenly spotting the stain and hurriedly (and with a hint of sheepish embarrassment) cleaning it away. Day Two had another stain layer added in the mouth region, giving the impression that my pumpkin-faced stain was tentatively sticking out his tongue at me with a playful raspberry. By Day Three, I began exchanging water-cooler conversations with the stain. A relationship began to blossom. If the work day was rough, I would look forward to returning home to that friendly smile and warm (albeit sticky) acceptance.

By the end of the week, I would take care to remove obstacles impeding sight away from the stain such as the blue bowl of quarter-filled drenched-in-extra-butter soggy popcorn (That I also adamantly refused to take care of...I can't believe that I'm so upset that I'm ending sentences with prepositions!). The stain's expression of gratitude and empathy filled my heart.

But as with all great relationships begat from sin and sloth, we were doomed to fail. An admitted weakness on my part, but I could not hold my head high should a visitor cross my threshold with the stain present. Our's was secret love that, when exposed to the light of possible public ridicule and judgment, would wither and die. I was not good enough...noble enough...to stand behind my stain. No...we could not wipe the past clean. We both needed a fresh start. And I needed a clean counter.

"Farewell, Pumpkin-faced Stain," I cried as he faded from sight. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"