English rose tea. you just came home from England. You were raved about the place. I just stayed home and couldn’t really relate, but it sounded so interesting and I also wanted to go so badly. I wanted to go to the island I heard and read so much about.
I never had it before but it was so nice. It smelled like roses! We were at your old apartment, I wore your mother slippers, I think it was a Sunday, the weather horrible we didn’t go out all day. No indeed we stayed inside, drank your tea, ate everything we could lay our finger upon, biscuits, bread, chocolate. The bloody shortbread with chocolate, that I only realised was shortbread once I came to Scotland.
We watched Kaya talk about Switzerland and crazy Russians wreak havoc on the streets. Oh, we spent hours like this. Your mother joined in, not understanding what was so hilarious about those car crashs, just hearing us wheezing and laughed about us.
It was a simpler time, nothing mattered. Just the next video, the next joke, the next biscuit and sip. Until I had to leave.
But I remember the smell of the tea. I remember the light of the living room and the chairs we sat in. I remember that we were together after a short period of separation, not having to plan much, just me coming over to visit you spontaneously, because there was nothing to do, no work, no exams, just me coming with my bike and leaving without any lights or proper jacket for the evening because I just didn’t care, didn’t think I’d stay this long again, having to text my mother that I'll be home just for dinner but I wasn’t hungry because I had eaten enough biscuits and tea.
I was in the shops and recognized the smell and felt transported back. I didn’t buy it, because it wouldn’t bring us back. But it drew a sile on my face remembering our shenanigans.
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