The chains held firm without a single squeak, taking my weight as I leaned back against the canvas cushions.

My blue ceramic mug stood on the little round table next to the armrest.

The coffee was finished, leaving a faint dark brown ring at the bottom of the glazed clay.

I picked up the small white porcelain teapot I had carried out from the counter ten minutes before.

The pot felt warm in my hand, wrapped in a quilted cozy to hold in the heat.

I poured a second cup of Earl Grey into the blue mug.