No frills or fancy.

There was that mug. It was a floral blue extremely large mug. We spotted it in an isle of the supermarket. We stooped down because the mugs were lined up in the bottom shelf. You held it in your hands as if it were the key to all your future happiness. Your whole face lit up, as if all the wonderful possibilities of the world opened up as soon as you had that mug in your hands. But you put it back. You put it back on the shelf. It didn’t matter that for a moment there was that glimmer of happiness. You put it back. Then you picked up another. And another. With each you looked into the mug, perhaps hoping that you’ll find the one that would seal the deal. You picked up one after another. Until suddenly, you peered into one that had rat crap in it. All the happiness vanished, needless to say. All the happiness was replaced with disgust.

You bought one of those mugs. Only one. I don’t remember whether it was the one you first held in your hands, the one that made your face light up, or is it another one that you chose afterwards. Does it matter? I can’t answer that. All I know is that you bought one of those mugs.