A Gentle Afternoon Tea

I noticed a forgotten ceramic mug resting on the wooden table, filled with cool chamomile tea. Fluttering up toward the rim, I peered inside and spotted a tiny floating dried blossom spinning in slow circles. Wanting to give it a companion, I carefully carried a clean wooden toothpick over and leaned it against the porcelain lip like a miniature bridge. When I touched the smooth, glazed edge, it felt soothingly cool under my paws. I hovered happily beside it, admiring our little quiet pond.