Kael
The mug had a handle large enough for three fingers.
Mine objected to two.
I changed hands, set it on the table and waited for the ache to settle.
The attendant had brought warm water with breakfast. Most of the warmth was gone now, but I had been told to drink more, and arguing with water seemed a poor use of the morning.
Outside the observation window, someone was hanging clean cloths over a rail.
One slipped.
The woman caught it before it reached the ground and looked around to see whether anyone had noticed.
I looked at my mug.
Professional courtesy.
There was a faint ring inside it, left by something stronger than the water I had been given. I turned the cup and rubbed the mark with my right thumb.
The motion brought back a different kitchen.
Hana stood beside the sink with a dish towel over one shoulder.
Two mugs waited in the water.
