By Amelia R. ’20 

My day is never complete without a cup of warm tea.

I stand on my tiptoes to reach for my white porcelain cup.

The bubbles of the untouched water yearn for the deep flavor, just as much as I do.

The steam reaches my dry face and its warmth wraps around my smile.

It is time to make a choice.

black.

A classic, an eternal object on my shelves.

Like a machine, robotic, perfect.

Though it may have no flaws, I cannot keep my eyes from shifting over. Boring perfection.

chamomile.

Soothes the ever fleeting mind, the second it kisses your throat. Close your eyes, and your mind is still, clear. A rare feeling in these times.

Yet, there is still something missing. A thrill I crave to escape this mundane dimension.

Chai.

My unknown. We have good days, when her kick is just enough. Just the right amount of flavor, life, and tang. We have bad days, when it is just too much. Too bitter, too spicy, too eccentric, too loud.

She reminds me of my colors. My brown. My green, orange, and white from the saree my mother wore for her wedding. They say that you are what you eat. Are you also what you drink?

Today I will have some chai.

Would you like some?