Three Dried Blossoms

After catching the evening bus back home, I set my ticket safely into the entryway dish and stepped into the kitchen. The pale ceramic canister of chamomile sat slightly turned on the counter. Stepping onto the flat wooden cutting board to gain steady footing, I lifted its lid and set it softly aside on a folded linen cloth. Using a slender bamboo scoop, I counted out three dried flower heads, transferring each one into the round stainless steel infuser ball. The small wire latch closed with a firm, muted click. I lowered the ball into my ceramic mug, letting the beaded chain drape neatly over the rim, ready for warm water.