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The Second Cup
Priya wanted the tea to be hot when her father sat down. He went out for bread. Then the rain started, and he was still in the street. His coat was thin. She kept thinking of his cold hands.
She filled the kettle and switched it on. The kitchen was warm. The window was cold when she touched it. She wanted the cup ready, so he would not stand there with cold fingers.
The kettle clicked. She poured the water on the tea bag and watched the color rise. Steam touched her face. She set the cup on the table, near his chair, and she felt pleased.
Then she waited. She did not know what kept him, and she did not go out to check. She stood by the window. A bus threw water at the side of the road.