British manners

Sally’s anger was close to being unmoored. It sizzled her blood, dark blush tainting her skin. How could she do this to her? What type of disrespectful, inhumane, human being would do this –

“So, how’s work going?” Joy asked.

“Not bad,” she managed to squeak through her lips. She couldn’t even look Joy in the eyes, her gaze fixed on the table she had polished earlier this morning.

“What’s wrong?” Joy asked, confused. Sally stared at the tea cup, drips of earl grey slipping down its side. Joy lifted the cup again, gulping greedily at the liquid. This was it, Sally thought, there was no way Joy would do it again –

“ARE YOU SERIOUS!” Sally screamed. Joy jumped, eyes skittering in fear. Her cup had once again landed and inch off the purposely placed coaster, and onto the shining wood.

Unmoored

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