The tea bags were resting in the sink, soggy from their warm bath. I watched her open the wooden cabinet door in search of some, meticulously hidden item. When she found it, she carefully lifted it from it's home and set it on the table next to a silver spoon.
"If you want sweetened tea, the sugar is here," she smiled politely.
In the years that I've known her, we drank our tea black to taste the natural, familiar flavors of home. I shook my head against the sugar and watched her unlatch the jar lid. The spoon crushed and sifted the glistening crystals, tempting, no promising a false satisfaction that she hadn't wanted before. I left for the parlor as I heard the heavy clanking of the spoon against glass.
No comments:
Post a Comment