I brewed again today.
Not out of habit. Not because anyone asked.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0mHFxnE2O9
But because I felt it—beneath the hearth, beneath my ribs—something waking.
Not a memory.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqDWw4EmFTY
A rhythm.
I reached for the same ingredients I’d once forgotten. But this time, I didn’t read the labels.
I listened.
To the creak of the glass, the sigh of cork, the breath of powder against warm water.
And I knew.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHjkbe9N00W
Not because I remembered.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡD7BN4zaIto
But because the tavern remembered for me.
The fire didn’t flicker this time. It swayed—like a dancer, recognizing its partner.
As I stirred, something stirred in me.
Not sadness. Not joy.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEkldGgcvVC
Just… return.
When the drink was done, I didn’t drink it.
I left it on the counter.
A guest came in not long after. One I hadn’t seen in many winters.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ36HpPLBamm
She looked at the mug and stopped mid-step.
“Oh,” she whispered. “You kept it warm for me.”
I hadn’t known I had.
But I nodded, and she wept without shame.
Some recipes are not remembered.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMPyP7pSdPu
They are received.
