Amar's Cup: A Short Story
An ethereal symbolic short story. Read if you like intuitive symbols, "reading between the lines", and archetypal characters. Amar, a young adult, stood in his balcony. He held a cup in his hand. An empty one. "Sometimes, we should fill ourselves with nothing," spoke Amar to himself as he sipped short wafts of air, "Actually, a cup is never empty. It has air even though it may look like "nothing"." The clouds in the sky seemed to be fighting for more space. A bright blue sky slowly draped an appearance of a grey overcast, dull to the eyes of someone who always saw but never looked. Amar was someone who looked. The winds chose this moment to make Amar's locality, at least from what he could see, the Roman gladiators' battleground. An arena where corporal prowess earned visibility. The cup dropped from Amar's steady hold, a calm grip. It went two floors down and shattered into pieces. Amar kept looking. He kept staring at each broken pi...