Tea time

“Did you come up here to see my son?” the Baroness asked.

Dahlia nodded, even though it wasn’t true. Not that she didn’t like to see him. She came up often enough to do so. But sometimes she had an ulterior motive. And that was the real reason she was up here today. Though she hadn’t expected to be found out so quickly.

“I think he is with Fletcher in his chambers. You know where that is?”

Dahlia nodded again. The Baroness smiled at her, then returned to her drink and papers. Dahlia swallowed.

The woman looked up again. “Would you like some tea, Dahlia? Yellow chrysanthemum.”

Dahlia nodded a third time. Nemissa gestured to another seat as she gave Dahlia her cup.

Completely comfortable, Dahlia took a sip.

Of my daily life

I always forget that I have put on the kettle.

Earl Grey is my poison of choice. Steeped for longer than it probably should be. Loose leaf, in a stylized strainer. A little milk and too much sugar, if I put anything in at all. I rather like drinking tea.

But I forget that I’ve put the kettle on. I leave the kitchen, I go somewhere else, I forget that I’m thirsty.

The screaming of the kettle always catches me off guard. I always have to run back to the kitchen, find my mug, if I even left it out and prepare everything as a harried mess.

Then it is too hot. For ten minutes it sits. Sometimes I forget that I have it there and it goes cold.

For those times I actually can drink my tea, remembering it when it is at the perfect temperature, ready for me. Sweetened or no.

Something finally seems right.