"I'm sorry," said I. "I can take you no further. You see, I have too much to carry--what with juggling this loaf of bread, three pots, a pan, and a large mixing bowl."
My water bottle frowned back at me. He wasn't taking this well. I winced and tried again.
"Really, I barely have one finger to hold you with, and it's about to break off!"
The maroon plastic bottle indicated the scrape marks on its surface from the times I had dropped it and shoved it into the too small holder on my bike.
"Don't you dare pull that one on me." said I, shifting my weight awkwardly from side to side. "I can't take you any further and that's final." I felt the perspiration upon my brow. I had to have this dinner made in fifteen minutes and it simply would not do to be late.
Ignoring its silent shrieks of abandonment, I dropped my water bottle in a pile of dried leaves next to a babbling brook. Separated from the warmth of my body, it quickly snuggled up to a wooden fence nearby and wept dreadful drops of hydration.
"I'll come back--I promise!" I shouted over my shoulder.
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