She Couldn't

The tea nearly spilled out of the ivory cup. Her face appeared relieved after the primary sip – however her arms trembled. She geared toward the saucer and slammed the cup at the internal circle of the saucer, wearing a boastful 1/2-smile to have a good time but some other `fulfillment’. As I cringed at the clink, she ordered, “finish your milk before it turns bad.” I nodded and dragged the glass of milk nearer, deciding on not to give an explanation for that I had asked the cook for a chilly coffee just a couple of minutes ago. glaringly, she hadn’t heard that.

because she couldn’t.

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