For a moment her hand stopped.

She remembered another cup, another morning, the crash of a chair, and the helpless shock of realizing that the person she trusted had intentionally hurt her.

She let the memory come.

She no longer tried to prove she was strong by pretending not to feel it.

Lena walked in carrying a bag of pastries.

“Please tell me those aren’t the same burnt beans you bought last week.”

“New brand,” Iris replied.