BETWEEN FOUR JUNCTIONS

A rippling heart. The soup continued to make small ripples, the distorted head shape fading gradually as it lapped against the sides of the bowl.

It did. Your soup loved you. As your eyes widened in surprise, you realised that you did too. No one had ever made you feel so loved, as appreciated as it had. You trusted the soup, you loved it and your wanted to spend the rest of your life with that warm feeling. The soup was what you were meant to be with.

Without realising, you had lowered your face to the surface of the liquid while thinking about all of this, so that your lips were almost grazing it. A few single strands of your hair met the soup, darkening as they dampened in the mixture. You brought your face down just the tiniest bit more, just until you felt your lips make contact with the soup. You kissed it gently, your slow breath sending more ripples across its surface as it kissed you back, sending small waves up against your lips in the effort.

You loved this feeling, and you wanted more of it. On this cold day, you’d found love where you least expected to. All you knew in that moment was that now you had, you weren’t letting it go.