The Faded Photograph
The sugar dissolves before you even taste it, a slow, white erosion that leaves the tea clear and cold in your mouth. You are standing in a kitchen that is not your kitchen, or perhaps it is, but the walls have stretched so far away that the window is just a square of gray void in the distance. The air smells of burnt toast and lavender water, a scent so heavy it feels like a physical weight...
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