Hovering over the cup she saw small, bright clouds reflected on the surface of the tea. She inhaled deeply, a faint wisp of steam rose to meet her with the subtle aroma of toasted rice. Genmaicha.
Sitting back on her low chair, the pale morning light and gentle birdsong gave her a feeling of eternity.
"I'm drinking the sky," she thought to herself, bemused. "How could today be anything but perfection?"