She steps onto the
balcony, mug warm in her
hands.
The city is still waking
below — a distant bus
hums, a pigeon coos from
the railing. Light spills
over the rooftops, soft
and gold, painting her
bare feet.
She sips. The tea is
chamomile, faintly sweet.
Steam curls up,
dissolving into the air.
A breeze lifts a strand
of hair across her
cheek. She doesn't brush
it away.
Stay here, just a little longer.