We sat so long the chairs began to feel uncomfortable, the conversation whirling and dancing as though it were already spring and flower blossoms were floating to the ground. Neither of us wanted to get up, even though we knew the tea pot was long past empty. You in your funny cap that didn’t quite cover your balding head and me in a long, gray scarf wrapped loosely around my shoulders, quite the pair we made.

You offered to buy another pot, a mint tea to please my penchant for no caffeine. I knew what that extra pot of tea would mean. Our dialog would delve deeper into subjects too painful to approach. The tea as our stimulus, it would be easy to arrive there, now wouldn’t it?

I declined.