He is sleek, brassy, his body has incredibly classic lines. He looks like a Greek god, or perhaps a Roman centurion; he's powerful, aggressive, with a wide stance and broad shoulders.
I on the
other hand am just a little teapot, short, stout, reflective. Sure I
have purpose, I'm not just a fancy curio; though where I sit is
generally reserved for pretty things that simply are, I actually have a
job in this family. I provide tea at the most formal of gatherings, I am
in fact very well thought of in the household. Many ooh and ahh as I'm
lifted and tipped, and never have I dripped after a pour; my spout is
flawlessly designed, my silver exterior perfectly polished. You'd think
I'd be happy.
But it's lonely being exquisite, and until he
showed up, I was quite singular in my magnificence. And then, "a new
lamp!" she squealed; the mistress as amazed as I with the arrival of
this wide brimmed stud with his translucent shade and his greek keyed,
four footed base. The woman of the house couldn't keep her hands off
him, stroking his fob, toying with his fringe, running her lithe fingers
up and down his fluted shaft. I was insanely jealous, and immediately
upon her leaving the room I tried to gain his attention so as to make
him forget the hussy's advances. But for all my toots and clanks, I
haven't yet gotten him to cast me so much as a sidelong light; it's as
if he doesn't even recognize the other semi-inanimate objects in the
room at all. I'll get him though, if I have to blind him with a
reflection of his own gaze, he will be mine one day.