Tea far from home

As I write this, I'm surrounded by masses of strangers rushing in every direction imaginable, overwhelmingly bright lights that assault my eyes, and enough foreground and background noise to keep me deaf for my next three lives - assuming this whole afterlife thing isn't a crock. It's a lot colder outside than I thought it would be, and my decision to disregard my wife's advice to dress warmer is coming back to haunt me. She was indeed right.

So I grab hold of my holiday-themed cup and let its warmth slowly seep into my fingers. I don't necessarily need to drink it just yet. Just the feeling of it in my hands is enough to not only return feeling to my frozen digits, but also cut down the distance from the part of this world that matters most to me.

All this from a simple drink. Crazy how that works, isn't it?

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