Four lines of prose that have something to do with: water.
Judging by the increase in comments here lately, I do believe we have some New Year writing resolutions going on. So I just wanted to say best of luck sticking with it, and please do let me know if I can be of any help.
The glass sat empty on his desk, exactly where he'd left it the evening before. Not even a hint of water remained, as though he'd tipped it upside down and waited for all of it to drip into his mouth. Every last drop.
Poison and all.