I have finished my daily chores and am in the kitchen brewing a pot of tea when Master arrives home. I am surprised by the sound of the door closing and hurry to the front room. He is alone and looks absolutely exhausted. I quietly approach his side and hold out my hands for his coat. He slowly hands it to me, loosens his tie, and undoes his top button. "Do you have any tea ready?" I nod and hang his coat in the closet. He wanders to the sitting room and slumps into on of his famous antique chairs while I disappear into the kitchen. My hands are steady and practiced as I pour the hot water from the kettle into a decorative tea pot and set the leaves to steep. I set it on the serving tray and assemble a cup and saucer with sugar cubes. I am quiet leaving the kitchen and entering the sitting room, and master does not seem to notice me. I take a moment to look at his slouched form. his elbows are propped on the armrests of the chair and his hands seem to be the only thing holding up his head. He is more tired than he should be after a simple unveiling in the museum, an event he has attended many times before. I shuffle over to the small table beside his chair and gently set my burden upon it. The clink of his cup against his saucer causes him to jerk upright with surprise. "Ah! Meredith! I hadn't realized you had returned."
I smile gently and pour the newly steeped tea into his cup, then plop in two sugar cubes. He reaches over and lifts the cup from its saucer and brings it to his lips. His drink is long and deep and he drinks the whole cup-full in one drink. He returns the cup to the tray and I pour him another cup and add the two sugars. His attention is no longer on the tea, though. He is looking up at me with a thoughtful expression.
" I don't think I have ever told you, but I like the way you make tea." He says. The moment the words leave his lips a slight blush dusts his cheeks and he glances back down at the tray. He quickly picks up the cup again and downs this one in a single sip, this time much more quickly. "Thank you for the tea, I think I will turn in now." He straitens from his chair and quickly exits the room. I can hear his footsteps go up the stairs.
My stomach still has yet to return to its spot after it crashed through the floor at his words. I take a deep breath. He has seen me, and now he cannot stop looking. That is the worst possible outcome. I pick up the tray and take it back to the kitchen. My mind wanders as I wash the cup and pot, and I can't seem to find what I am trying to look for in my head. Master is becoming a problem, and I don't know yet how I am going to solve it.
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