A simple teacup, sitting on a desk in front of a window. The rain had stopped for a moment and the sunlight shone through a break in the clouds, illuminating the rim of the cup. The delicate, curving handle beckoned the caressing of a finger or two and the simple pattern of blue flowers seemed to beg to be filled with warm nectar. It's size, though it would seem dwarfed if held by a man, was the perfect fit for a lady's hand and so there it rested, with a lipstick stain along the edge.
Though an inanimate object, the teacup seemed to comfort its handler. Thin fingers ran back and forth along the base and stress seemed to evaporate almost instantly.