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Weekly Contest #362
Steam curled from the chipped teapot as Peter poured hot water into two mugs. He reached automatically for a third, but as his hands touched the cold porcelain, his body froze. His hand lingered for a moment then gently caressed the green mug. A small smile came across his lips and his vision blurred. He cleared his throat and called out to the patio “Mint and liquorice?” The low rhythmic motion from the swing had left her lost in memories. Rosalie looked up from the porch swing where she sat wrapped in her mother’s old knitted blanket. It s...
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