I drank hot tea from the first sip to the last

Dear Delyara, No reheating. No interruption. No one calling me just as I sat down. No hidden task waiting at the edge of the room. That should not feel miraculous. It did. I think that’s how I know how long I’ve been overused — complete little things now feel emotionally rich because so many ordinary comforts reach me broken, delayed, or half-owned by someone else’s need before they become mine. One full mug of hot tea did not change my life. It still changed my evening.