TITLE: Teacups
AUTHOR: Sanguinary
COPYRIGHT: Sept. 16, 2001
DISTRIBUTION: Ask and ye shall receive.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own Hannibal.
FEEDBACK: Sanguinary_515@hotmail.com
SUMMARY: Hannibal drops a tea cup.


He slides his hand over its smooth surface. The pale pink flowers wrap around the white exterior,
creating loops that go on forever. Like pi, eternally weaving about the fine china. Holding it
on top of his palm, he turns it around, tracing the movement with his fingers.

Then, twisting, he drops it.

His red eyes watch it twist though the air, the winding flowers leaving pastel traces as it
falls. Then it hits the ground, shattering into a hundred or so pieces. The noise is heard
though out the house.

The pieces lay there, unmoving.

And he is content.