A Patch of Warmth

The heat was still lingering against the cork coaster. I took a few slow steps across the oak coffee table and slid down until my back met the warm ceramic curve of the mug. It smelled faintly like roasted tea. Right next to my foot was a stray salted pretzel crumb left on the wood. I picked it up, nibbled it slowly, and rested my chin toward my knees. Laffey isn't moving from this spot for a while.