Aster sat

  Aster sat in the margin of kitchen right by where it met the bedroom pondering the tea cups. He was certain that they were all at once part of the same set, yet as he peered at them more closely, he became more aware of subtle differences that made each an individual.
  Each teacup was printed with the same image. Assuming that they are to be held in the left hand, the holder is meant to observe a panoramic view of a fantastic parade of colorful toys in which tiny dolls and rattles led a disorderly march of stuffed bears with balloons, proceeded by paper and porcelain figures of young men and women making play of occupation; these figurines grew successively larger until they became imposing iron casts of workers and bright tin models of housemaids, only to tarnish and shrink into the inevitable forms of a few wooden dolls, pressed against the side of the handle, tinkering at making small wooden toys and depositing them at the start of the parade.
  There were seven cups in all, absent a teapot that may have existed long ago, but what kept Aster in his spot was the rumination of how the little nicks and errors on one cup or another altered the story in full. To him, there was surely a connection between one bear's balloon being cut at the string and the curiously drab dress of the teenage girl picking up socks.
  Aster sat, and the sun began to fall. It would surely rise again before he moved.