Coffee
He admired the rings around her eyes. Blue and violet, he could find a whole field of cornflowers there. But he could not see her eyes when sighing she rested her forehead in her hands and stared at the blank paper on her desk. His computer said it was seven thirty.
Walking into the kitchen, he breathed in coffee, but the liquid was gone from the pot. He filled it with water and stepped up to the coffee machine.
‘Do you know that she already has a boyfriend?’ asked the coffee machine.
‘His name is Mark,’ he said, ‘I mean, who?’
‘Coffee won’t help,’ said the machine, ‘you’ll still be a friend.’
‘I don’t care,’ he stepped closer. ‘It will help, though.’
The coffee machine strained half a millimetre away from him.
‘You’re going to lie there and wait like some crocodile?’
‘I’m not a crocodile,’ he said.
‘I refuse to be a part of it.’
‘Don’t be like that,’ he poured in the water.
‘I won’t be part of it!’
He filled a filter with coffee and put it in the machine.
‘I’m warning you,’ said the machine, ‘don’t you press that button.’
‘What are you going to do?’ He pressed the button and the machine exploded.
A Bolg? 
Beau Allen
/ March 2, 2014Your personification of the coffee machine was quite entertaining. I enjoyed reading that! Thanks for sharing. 🙂
W. R. Woolf
/ March 5, 2014Thanks for reading 🙂