Crush, snip, slice, blend.
It has taken a long time for these gestures to stop being haunted by a spectre of her; for the scent of herbs not to evoke rust-sweetness and a vial outstretched.
Mash, mix, swirl, combine.
But now, this is a beautiful set of motions. A choreography of tea-making, belonging to a spider who weaves flavours rather than webs, who blends her faultless service with smiles that no longer feel as false.
Stir, steep, swirl, pour.
The travelling tea saleswoman, of two faces and spidery skirts, is starting to resent her home a little less.
It is nice to have somewhere to return to. It is nice to have a friend, truly loved without fear of treachery. It is nice to feel forgiven.
It is nice to see Teishi smile.
The tea seller’s faces do not always smile – sometimes they are dragged down by a strangling weight, by a self-conscious scowl as tea leaves stain the fingers, or by the occasional blood-cough of a contract once broken.
But when they do smile, it is genuine.
Gem does so now, as tea swirls into mugs shared, and dregs settle with the finality of a fate fulfilled.
Teishi is smiling. That is what matters, really.