Imagining it was time—her guest was always punctual—Clara heated the water for tea and set the table: crisp linens, two Spode cups and saucers, polished silverware, and lemon wedges in a cut-glass dish.
The kettle whistled.
A floral fragrance filled the kitchen as Jasmine tea steeped in the ceramic teapot.
Clara switched her cellphone to vibrate; although her self-absorbed children rarely bothered checking on her, answering while entertaining appeared ungracious.
“Had a visitor today,” Clara texted her daughter later that evening before dumping out the wilted lemons wedges, pouring the untouched cups of tea down the drain.
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