“Tea?” Her aunt Val appeared, holding two mugs. “Earl Grey. It’s that kind of afternoon.”
Maggie looked up. The sky wasn't the pale, washed-out blue of a northern autumn. It was a deep, startling cobalt, the kind that made you feel like you could fall into it. The air smelled of dry earth and eucalyptus oil—not rot and decay, but a slow, quiet release. australia's seasons
“So what happens next?” she asked.
“That’s backwards,” Maggie whispered. “Tea
“No,” Val said softly. “It’s just here .” “Tea?” Her aunt Val appeared