THE living room was washed in the soft glow of mid-afternoon light, curtains drawn halfway to let the sun spill lazily across the tiled floor. Two elderly women sat comfortably on the plush couch, knees angled toward each other, fancy porcelain teacups cradled in their hands as thin wisps of steam curled into the air.
Mrs. Harlow lifted her cup carefully and took a small sip.
“This tea always tastes better when I have company,” she said with a pleased smile. “I swear, when I drink it alone, it is just… tea.”
Mrs. Ellis chuckled, setting her own cup down on the saucer.
“That’s because you add too much sugar when you are lonely,” she teased. “You are compensating.”
“Oh please,” Mrs. Harlow scoffed lightly. “As if I’m the lonely one here. You are the one who suddenly remembered she had
