Hot chocolate

I’m sitting at the kitchen table cluttered with cooking utensils in clear glass vases, a plastic Jack-o-lantern stuffed with lemongrass stalks, the rice cooker that my mom bought me for my first apartment years ago, CDs that we never listen to, a bag of semi-stale tortilla chips, and realizing that this is the first time I’ve sat at my kitchen table to write.

Also, sitting at my side, is my snowflake mug emptied of its contents. It was filled with a minty hot chocolate that tasted grainy and slightly bitter at the end. I remembered it not tasting like that before.