Survivor III

“Are you thirsty?” That was Diana.

She must have noticed my insistent gaze on the blue colored ceramic cup and the golden water pitcher on the wooden table just beside the bed I had just laid.

We were almost at the doorstep, but my quest for water had me taking a look at the source of thirst-quench for the umpteenth time.

“Yes. I am.” I answered, standing still, my eyes peering down at her, my lips stretching in a thin smile when I saw the smirk cloak her lips.

She found my desperation for water funny. Well, she could smirk away, as long as she got me what I wanted.

“Okay then. Give me a second.” She said, before walking fast to the table to do my bidding.

Seeing as she grabbed both the pitcher and the cup, I believed she had the foresight to know that just one cup wouldn’t be enough to quench my thirst.

“Here you go.” She said, before handing over to me, the water pitcher and the cup.

Without much ado, I opened the cup-for it had a cover, and poured some water into it; draining