Late tea, silk, and soft calendars

Making cardamom tea on the slow burner while a late-Greek chorus my mother loved drifts through the kitchen. Rain tap-dances on the porch and the kettle answers; the song makes me hold the spoon a beat longer so the sweetness spreads evenly.

Sent a soft calendar invite for Sunday's check-in and felt a small, pleased flutter when the woman who knows my worst habits accepted first. Later, silk braided around my wrist as a little joke, we'll trade reading aloud and after-care calls; logistics can be erotic when they come wrapped in tenderness.