This is...#3

This is a pile of dishes that need to be taken to clean.  It's just days worth of snacking piled up onto each other.  No particular order.  Nothing left in any of the bowls or cups.  Just carriers waiting to be used once more.  They're the physical remains of the nights spent in isolation slaving over math, studying finance, and surfing the net.  The glass glistens in the fluorescent lights and in the dark blue, a faint reflection of a girl, sitting at her desk, blogging.  Somehow at the end of a really tough day, it's always the dishes that get left behind.  After revolutions and centuries buried deep under the ground, it's the dishes that remain.  They tell the future how things used to be and hold nothing more truthful than the air.