Plans

It had been a while, but it was time to come back to the classics. He missed its sweet aroma and tangy, yet subtle aftertaste.

He had planned it a couple days ahead. Gone to the store, bough the ingredients, the leaves, the infusing spoon, even the freshest, most zesty oranges he could find. It was going to be a grand morning and he could hardly wait for it.

Soon it arrived, with the early morning sunlight cresting over the hills, glistening on the frozen grass, shining into his room between the hanging curtains. It was the kind of morning sun that revealed the floating dust in the air, illuminating thousands of microscopic ballerinas.

Opening his eyes, he smiled. It was time.

Swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, he hoped off and sprung towards the kitchen. He looked through the cabinet for his favorite cup and found it, hidden in the back, so no others would ever see it and use it.

Turning towards the stove, the pot of water was waiting for the fire to be lit below it. As he reached for the knob on the stove, he stopped, thought, put his cup down and ran back to his room and hoped into bed.

Early grey tea with a splash of fresh orange is great, but it could wait until the afternoon.

The freezing cold kitchen floor wasn't worth the wait.