I pulled out my grandmother’s mahogany side tables.

They were dusty, but undamaged.

I carried them back into the living room, placing them on either side of the velvet sofa.

I went back to the closet and found the porcelain lamps with the yellowed silk shades.

I set them on the tables and plugged them in.

The warm, soft light filled the room, casting long, familiar shadows across the walls.

The copper kettle began to whistle in the kitchen, a high, steady note.

I walked back and poured the boiling water over the tea leaves in a small ceramic pot.

The scent of bergamot and black tea rose with the steam.

I carried the teapot and a small porcelain cup into the living room.

I sat down on the velvet sofa, placing the tray on the mahogany table.

The grandfather clock in the corner began to chime again.

It was four o’clock.

The afternoon sun was low in the sky, casting a golden light through the sheer curtains.

I took a sip of the hot tea, feeling the warmth spread through my chest.