haters mad cuz im a cutie patootie

I wait and I watch. I glance at the clock. Seven hours since you spoke. Seven days since Ive last heard from you. There's seven days in a week. And I dedicate each to a passing of the stages of my grief. A day for denial, a day for anger, a day for bargaining and so it goes; this sordid story of loving and letting go. do you want to hear? well, this is how it starts; a cup of tea, steaming, made twice, in two different ways. theres a word or two exchanged. then the steam cools, the tea remains in the saucer, theres understanding in the air. theres a world that stays at the bay. the sun sets. and then arises again. the tea is made, again, two different ways. two cups, two saucers, four hands, brushing over each other as the kitchen bustles with movement. then the cups are exchanged. a taste of elaichi and an excess of water. theres a swift critique. i make it too bitter, and you, too sweet. theres something in the way you look at me. the sun goes down quicker this time. there is knowing, and a little bit of understanding. the next morning, the tea spills, molten, splashes onto us two. theres a silence, for a beat, then coughing laughter, theres one, theres two, theres three, the hours we sit in silence after, they keep increasing by the minutes. your eyes linger longer this time. for the next day, it arises into the night. its dark out when the stove's lit. theres seasalt in the air. we sit under the moonlight, the waves are calmer tonight. nothing spills. but something feels empty. You smile and the tea suddenly isn't the only thing too sweet. It is then when the sun is awoken. The light feels wrong, like a lamp shade at stark midnight. Uncanny and all too visible. The sun shines, but I'd rather it be nighttime. The tea is & isn't made again. A cup for one, rather than two. The kitchen is silent today; you remain a viewer and keep me at bay. Your tea cools and I wait for your smile to bloom. But the tea is never drunk and you are three years away. There is mourn and you lie in wait. For the eventual memory of you to go away. It is there the story ends, of love & letting go. Through all this, I make myself a cup of tea still, the taste of elaichi & a smile too sweet. There is longing in every cup I make. There is you, ever-present, in every breath I take

sorry to broadcast ur tags but this is also a valuable part of the litmus test! it seems like you learned a lot about how this person makes you feel in their social group. they didn't go out of their way to include you, and neither did their friends. therefore you can come to a pretty good conclusion about how you might feel being part of their life outside of an escape room; someone who doesnt include you or your feelings in a game is likely going to do the same in other situations