I couldn't get over the feeling of being in the dog house. Tired and stressed and alone, I hunched over my desk and the steaming cup of chai. "Was it my fault? God, I feel like such an idiot!" It plagued me that I had made a mistake. Me. A mistake. It just didn't compute.
So downtrodden and discouraged, I stared listlessly into the tea and the small fragments of dried leaves that swirled at the bottom. The melancholy honey sank to the bottom of the amber-hued liquid.
I knew that this would take some adjustment, I knew the city would change me. I knew that at times I would feel like my life wasn't quite right. I sad epiphany struck. "It's not right. I don't want to do this for long, pushing files about and dreaming of my true dream as proxy could do it justice!" My sickening sadness reached throat and I stirred the steaming chai.
The goals, the dreams and the ideas flashed in my mind. I poured the cream into the cup. The soft white hit bottom and billowed towards the top like a nuclear explosion. The cream cloud swirled in the chai like a beautiful storm. It bounced from the edges of the mug and the once clear amber became muddled and brown. With one final stir the tea became opaque and the tears welled up in my eyes.
It's a cup of tea. This is easier than it looks.