The Tea Room

I never knew why I walked past the tea room for two years and never went in. I had stared into the window, watching others put porcelain cups to their lips, but I never claimed their actions to be in line with mine.  The warmth of the rooms and the fireplace were too much for me to resist during the winter blasts of a cold winter day. In summer it had been so effortless to pass by the English tea room and opt for an oozing white cheese pizza after work in the park. My application had even worked it’s way into the box one morning, but until this day, I had never given myself permission to cross over the threshold until I took my girlfriend for a pot of tea one winter afternoon, after a long walk through town. Anna needed something, a lift, a lighter moment in the middle of a mad transition. She had become a dear friend in a short time, more like family than a friend. She worked as a boutique owner by day, but a night she gave readings in her store after all the shades were drawn. Not that anyone knew  about such activities…everyone thought she was such a quiet reserved woman. After sunset something would transpire in Anna that I have rarely seen in another human being. When I looked into Anna’s eyes I always felt I was calling her back from another time and place…