The morning air bites at your cheeks and nose, the kind of cold that turns them red and raw, crisp and harsh as it whispers through the trees. The ground is littered with old, damp leaves, their once-vibrant colors muted by the wetness that clings to them, waiting for the first snow to blanket them in silence. You stare down at the steaming cup of tea in your hands, the last of the stash, its warmth seeping into your fingers. The rising steam brushes against your face, leaving a gentle dampness, a fleeting comfort in the morning chill.

From the veranda, you hear the soft strumming of a guitar. Joel, you know, is out there, his fingers lazily moving over the strings, coaxing out a tune that’s more for him than anyone else. Ellie? Maybe she’s upstairs, or with Dina somewhere. But right now, it’s just you and the tea, the oversized sweater draped around you, holding in what little warmth you can find. The sweater is like a white flag, a soft surrender after the argument—one you and Joel have had too many times before. He says you’re reckless. You say he’s tired. Neither of you budges.

So, tea. The problem solver.

You step out onto the veranda, careful with your movements so the tea doesn’t spill. Joel sits there, staring out at the yard, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he reaches for the blanket beside him and creates a space for you. You sit down, and he pulls the blanket over your legs. The two of you sit there, not looking at each other, but it’s enough for now. It’s a start.

After a long pause, Joel finally speaks, his voice low and gruff. "Tea, huh?" The silence hangs between you, heavy but not uncomfortable—just enough, for now.

You nod, taking a slow sip. "Yeah... figured it couldn't hurt."

He nods, his fingers brushing the strings absentmindedly. "Guess we’ll see."