Tea ceremony 31

He appears to hesitate before knocking, but only for a moment. The door opens soon, perhaps too soon, and for a few seconds he looks startled, almost disoriented. She gestures, silently, for him to enter. They go into the living room and sit side by side on the couch, not touching, just looking at each other. Neither looks at the teapot on the coffee table before them. After a few moments she stares at the pot, as though seeing it for the first time, picks it up by its white porcelain handle and pours, first his cup, then her own.

After this she does not make any move to drink her tea, but simply stares into his eyes, her gaze unwavering. He looks down at the two teacups, a thoughtful expression on his face. After a moment he takes a sip from the cup before him, then another, holding it delicately with the fingers of one large hand, holding the saucer carefully in his other hand. When he has finished his tea he puts down both cup and saucer and rests both his hands, face down, side by side on the coffee table.

She continues to look at him, shrugs, shakes her head slightly. Slowly she reaches out with one hand, placing it lightly upon his knee. He looks down at her hand, so small and delicate. He removes her hand from his knee and holds it to his face, touching her slender fingers lightly to his cheek.

Then he plants a single kiss upon her palm and rests her hand gently down upon the table, palm up. She stares intently at the place upon her palm where it has just been kissed. He abruptly stands up, carries his teacup to the kitchen, places it carefully on the counter, and walks to the door.

Her gaze never wavers from her upturned hand, still lying open on the table where he had placed it. Only after she hears the door close does she lift her own cup, and slowly begin to sip her tea.