Sitting down with you I lift my cup as you lift yours’s a smile at your lips. The tea kettle piping hot, steaming while screaming, it’s bulbous base on heat. Laughing we enjoy our treats, sitting at mahogany table, high backed chairs, with little red cushions, expertly buttoned. A thick shag rug running its cloth talons through our bare toes, tickling the feet resting on it’s thick shrub. Our hands rushing this way and that, a clatter here, with a clicked clack of metal as our forks and knives ran away from each other in polished cuts, striking our deserts with death blows in order to feed our waiting chompers. Munching the finer things we smile and flirty blink at one another, finding ourselves drifting through the dream into the end, awakening dressed in our nightgowns, thinking fondly of dreams though hundreds of miles separate us. (edited)