gentle, but hesitant he lifts the china to his lips, and like the tea scolds his tongue, he punishes himself. at this time,10:30 a.m, weekdays she brewed the same Seattle cinnamon that now flooded his system with her memory; through Puget Sound and evaporated into constant cloudy skies that pour rain into the mind of a man of many mistakes; last of which being losing her and the comfort she brought; something as constant and as taken for granted as the weather.