The kettle clicked off and I warmed the teapot, then spooned in some first-flush Darjeeling,
my mind still focused on the putative beauty of my slumbering troubadour.
Childish laughter from my colleagues began to intrude upon my thoughts, but I assumed this was to do with my choice of beverage.
Knowing no better, they are content to drop a bag of poorest-quality blended tea into a mug,
scald it with boiling water and then dilute any remaining flavor by adding fridge-cold milk.
Once again, for some reason, it is I who am considered strange.
But if you’re going to drink a cup of tea, why not take every care to maximize the pleasure?
The giggling continued, and Janey started to hum. There was no attempt at concealment now; they were laughing loud and hard.
She stopped humming and started singing. I recognized neither the melody nor the lyrics.
She stopped, unable to go on because she was laughing so much, still performing a strange backward walk.
“Morning, Wacko Jacko,” Billy called out to me. “What’s with the white glove?”
So that was the source of their amusement. Unbelievable. “It’s for my eczema,” I said,
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색