March 22, 2026

dear atlas,

today, my favorite cup slipped from my hands and broke. and somehow, it felt like i lost something that knew me. i’ve had it since i was two. it sat quietly through my mornings, my nights, my in-between days. it held my warmth when i needed it, stayed when everything else felt like it was changing.

to anyone else, it was just a cup. but it carried years of me.

and now it’s gone, reduced to pieces. and i’m left holding memories where something once was.

—dwarf.