I feel so warm and coddled like melted chocolate, dribbling against the mug, split over a counter. Finger tips freezing as it touches the air.
No reason to cry over spilt milk. I boil the kettle again, clean the mess I've made and start again. Throw in the grounded droplets, a dash of powered chocolate, 'click' The kettle coughs bubbles. I pour, enveloped by the steam against my skin, a dash of milk.