Musing by a cup of tea. Mid-afternoon with a slice of drizzling rain. Music waxing poetic, ambience mixed with a static variety of languages and lyricism.
Clouds out the window – an imposing mix, like gray oils on white canvas. The rain plucks against the window, falling in loud, nearly thundering sheets before slipping into softer, faint droplets. They slide against the window, falling into the window-box and the mix of dampened leaves and delicate, white-blooming flowers that compose the little garden.
Inside, it’s faintly warm – not enough to intrude but enough to be comfortable with an extra, fuzzy blanket. The TV chatters happily enough – skipping around from fifties’ reruns to cheesy nineties’ sitcoms. Occasionally, something slips in from the news, but it realigns itself swiftly to something more animated and cheerful.
The tea is black, drizzled with warm honey and pinches of sugar. The scent is warm and reminiscent of other rainy days. Bowls of pretzels and crackers, chocolates and strawberries, lying absently on a side table. Notebooks scattered about, kept far enough away from the teacup on the embroidered napkin to prevent any fear of spilling.
Music blurs into the scene, spilling at the edge from quieter speakers in the corner of the room. It merges with the scratch of pencil, the persistent clicks of typing.
The sun, briefly, through the blinds. The rain has not ceased, merely lessened, and the sun turns each droplet to a rainbow. Perceive this, as the music swells and the silence of this afternoon collides with all of the world in its entirety, consumed within a raindrop that reflects a thousand colors and all of the human experience within its prism…