I reheated the same tea twice and never finished it

Dear Delyara, The first time it went cold because my son couldn’t find his trainers. The second time because work called. By the time I reached the mug again, I didn’t even want it anymore. That made me strangely sad. Not because of tea. Because it said too much about the shape of my days. Even my smallest comforts now arrive interrupted, delayed, half-owned by someone else’s urgency before they fully become mine.