Lake Lewisia #85

[scrubjayspeaks]

One perfect cup of tea, brewed from fragrant leaves that still flecked the bottom of the cup and a golden color that seemed to glow up beyond the rim, steamed in the center of the table. She considered the empty house, the locked door, the unused stovetop, and the lack of teapot, then she took the first reckless, piping hot sip. It had been a very long day, and she didn’t mind a little inexplicable comfort.

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LL#85