Short story loosely based on me and my boyfriend's current relationship. only difference is we still live with his mum and I haven't lost the teddy...

I filled our teapot with water, the teapot your mother gave us. The white one with green squiggles. The kettle had just clicked off and was shaking, we couldn't afford a new one so most of our tea had a layer of limescale. I quickly grabbed three teabags and dropped them in the pot, and drowned them in the boiling water. I popped the tea cosy I knitted at my Nan's over the top.  I was never good at knitting, no matter how hard my Nan tried to teach me. I’d make holes, I’d lose loops somewhere, and then I’d add them somewhere else. I was a disaster. I'd make a simple scarf into a questionmark in a matter of minutes.
The milk and sugar were already on the tray. I opened our cupboard to get the mugs. We never bought a set of mugs, instead we bought our collection from sci-fi shops, charity stalls and stolen from our parents. I picked up your favourite, the big black mug with TEA written on it (the biggest mug we owned). I picked up the 18th birthday mug your sisters bought me; I’d lost the matching teddy month ago...
The milk wobbled as I picked the tray up, and I spilt a little, but not enough to care. Walking extra carefully (I have a talent for tripping over) I brought the tray though to the living room, and placed it on the coffee table. I began to pour you a brew; three sugars, not too much milk (and mine exactly the same) and passed yours over to you.
“Next time you make the tea...”

The End

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