earl_grey tender_square my neighbour handed me a box of tazo as she stepped through the door to visit. i couldn't remember the last time i'd had the flavour, though i'm sure i sipped it sitting across from my grandmother at her kitchen table. i forgot the bergamot bitterness no milk could ever weaken. the liquid made dark rings inside of my white mug. my neighbour spoke of bone breaks and and break-ins, of feral cats and her family's wild mood swings. i turned up the toe tag on the bag searching for a fortune that didn't exist. 230223 what's it to you? who go blather from