FerahW

10th December, 2011. Another drowsy winter afternoon, and England was preparing his tea. A standard measure, by all accounts, and the young man found himself tipping the pristine china teapot over the expecting cup with automatic, inattentive hands. It was in these strange moments of temporary unconsciousness that England seemed to melt into his sombre, melancholy surroundings, his moss-green eyes befitting their unfocused glaze. Solid shadows of the past. Tipping the teapot up just in time to stop the beige liquid spilling over, he placed it aside on the wooden tabletop and stirred while supplying the required amount of white sugar from i