29. Write from the point of view of a spoon inside a dishwasher.
Carelessly tossed in, as dishes and cups are handled with care I am a lowly spoon, forgotten and tossed into the basket.
I’ve gone through this epic adventure many a time before;
this one no different from the last.
From the bottom rack I can see everything, the spinning arms, the dirty plates and dishes, even the lonely measuring cup off to the side.
This basket, it restrains me.
Restrains me from escape, but also keeps me here to be whipped by the violent water
As the arms spin faster, the water comes gushing out.
I am soon coated with suds,
But before long the warm water washes them off
Hot air whirls around, sweeping across every last utensil
Once all the commotion stops, there is nothing left but to wait
How long will I be in here?
A few hours? A day?
None of it is known, but what is known:
I am clean.
