Tea Ceremony

The electric coil sits like a hot snake hissing into life at the flick of the old plastic switch.
The kettle's at least ten years old.
And needs to be at a certain angle to fire up.
Slakes of limescale coat the bottom.
The blinking thing's a kitchen heirloom.
Covered in well-scrubbed scum.
When the electricity finally flows a cup is primed to be on standby.
The kettle shudders to a stop and is lifted to pour.
Falling boiled water has a distinct sound.
Unlike running taps or cold water from a bottle.
The teabag is squashed against the side of the mug and unceremoniously dumped in the sink.
Finally a dash of milk and a spoonful of toothrotter.
A loud, slapdash, time-aware approach.
Not like the four hour tea ceremony practiced in Japan.
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