I Was Making Coffee When My Daughter-In-Law Destr0yed My Wife’s Mug. “Just Old Junk.” The Next Day…

drain.

Hand-painted red roses.

I knew those roses.

My wife had bought that mug on our twenty-fifth anniversary trip to Maine. Bar Harbor, late September. Wind off the water. Lobster rolls wrapped in paper. Maren standing in a little coastal shop, holding that mug with both hands like she had found treasure instead of a ten-dollar piece of porcelain.

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