Sunday, June 12, 2016
Day 12: A tea for my friends
Sunday morning. The sun peaks a little hello through the curtains and the smell of coffee brings the room to a gentle wake. Clock blinks eight thirty two and with one last stretch she gets out of bed. Blotches of mascara residue is left under her eyes making potent of her dark circles but her light hazel eyes tells another story. Loose locks of leftover curls framed her face and with that being said she wanders around her two roomed apartment. Colors of white, green, and gray flourished the apartment from head to toe with a little stain of red found on the washed out wooden floors. Only to remember that the friends she had were just something from her past. Painted white, she takes a seat and ponders. Tea. A cup of pipping hot tea is what she needed. Making tea was a specialty used in circumstances that were inexplicable even to the human mind. Such warm liquid to cure the cold of a broken heart. Accidentally making tea for two, she pours the remainder of the tea into a mug and stores the mug in the back of the cupboard. What cannot be seen should not be spoken about and what cannot be spoken about should not be seen. She keeps her friends to herself and she did not need someone or something to define her qualities. A sip of tea is the only satisfaction she needed and she had all the power within her small fingertips, at least right at that moment she does. Mint, honey, and a splash of happy juice, any tea could be her friend, anyone's friend really. How much more wonderful could life possibly get? To the last drop. Life should be appreciated to the last drop.