Lamp

October 15, 2024

He switches on the lamp as the sun begins to set outside the cottage. The fire is blazing on the hearth and the kettle is seconds from hissing on the stovetop and everything feels good. There is a tall stack of books sitting next to the overstuffed green velvet armchair and his bookmark sticking out of the mystery novel he had been reading since last night. He was going to finish it tonight, he knew it. It had been a long day, but he knew he would be sitting next to that very chair until he finished the novel. It was just too good, and he had to figure out who had murdered the school teacher. The kettle hisses on the stove and he pads over to the cabinet to pick out his favorite cinnamon tea and plops a packet into the bottom of the orange and white speckled mug that his sister made him. Mixing in a little honey, he takes a sip of the warm and, slightly spicy, tea and makes his way back to the armchair. Next to the armchair there is a small antique table that is the perfect shape and size for one tea cup and a bookmark, so that is where he sets the teacup down as he gets situated into his chair. He drapes the throw that his aunt had made for him when he moved out to college over his lap and grabs the tea with his left hand and the book with his right, and snuggles into the chair with his feet tucked under him. A shiver runs down his spine and a smile spreads across his face; it is the perfect night.