Fungal Halo

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Let's Not Be Sentimental

I stumble and fall again, dropping the pitcher, its precious fluid spilled and wasted as it shatters on the ground. My limbs struggle to bear me upright again when I feel the heel of Her boot on my back, the weight of Her disappointment in me holding me down.

I freeze, and it takes some time for any words to come.

“This one is just too broken now.”

No anger in Her voice, just sadness, perhaps remembering when I was among her treasured favorites. Then darkness envelops me, and I am pulled out of service and taken away.