© Dawn Miller
“Tea for three?” she asked, fluffing her skirts, giving him a shy smile.
He looked at the three teacups perched on the spindled legs from a table. “What type of tea shall we be having?”
“Earl Grey, of course.”
He watched her dance around, pretending to make tea and pour it into the cups. Done, she handed him a straw with which he pretended to sip at the pretend tea.
“Do you like it here?”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “There is tea and sometimes Mother gives me crumpets.”
“You like crumpets?”
“Oh yes, with butter and raspberry jam!”
“I love raspberry jam.”
She squealed. “I wish Mother had given me some today.”
“I’ll bring some next time I come to visit.”
“Will you come again?”
“Of course. Tea for three is my favorite time of day.”
She began searching for flowers. “I must put them on Mum’s grave this evening. She shall be ever so sorry if I forget.”
He watched for a moment before walking back into the house.
“What do you think, Doc?” Jamison asked.
He looked out the window, at the woman dancing in the field, flowers in her arms. “I think,” he said, “we should all wish to be as happy as her.”
A Writer's Life 
If only. Sometimes when our mind is locked in a childlike state, that is the best time of it
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How true. It would be nice to go back sometimes.
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This is excellent, well done. And puts me in the mood for a crumpet and raspberry jam!
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Thank you. Raspberry jam is yummmm!
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Nicely written, I felt that I was there.
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Thank you.
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Very well done!
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Thank you.
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