The Brown Ceramic Mug

Quietly sitting on an old wooden chair, I hear the hum of the machine heating the water in the brown ceramic mug. Darkness creeps through the window blanketing the small room as I rise to retrieve the small bag of leaves, ginger, and peach that would soon drown in the hot water in the brown ceramic mug. Beep! Beep! Beep! My trained brain responds automatically to happily reclaim my brown ceramic mug and plunge the bag of tea into the steaming liquid. Snatching a teaspoon from within the silverware drawer and pulling the sugar jar from the back of the dish-piled counter, I easily unscrew the lid and sprinkle some of the sweet crystals into the brown ceramic mug and give it a quick stir. The wooden floor creaks as I shuffle through the small room and up the stairs to another room full of books, a comfy armchair, and memories of a past life. Under the protection of a rouge blanket and comforted by a pillow made with love from a great grandmother who is now resting eternally, I enjoy my first sip of evening peace.