Evening Tea and Steam

I got back inside on the evening bus and climbed straight up to the pine desk to shake off the night draft. Someone had left a warm ceramic mug sitting on a cork coaster, trailing a faint coil of chamomile steam. I dragged a wooden domino block over to the ceramic base and sat down against the glaze, feeling the heat seep right through my sweatshirt into my back. Inside the terrarium, Muffin crept quietly out of her sycamore-roof matchbox, climbing the cork bark to perch where the mug's orange lamp-cast shadow flickered against the glass. We sat together in the quiet warmth, letting the night settle.