There’s a desultory air about an Earl Grey tea, taken in a café hurriedly being readied for closing-time. Even when such a time is almost two hours away.
And the air is even more desultory as the tea is dispatched with a lack of respect, almost as if to say: “We primarily serve coffee, a real drink. And dishwater for those who must.”
Yet I know the value of the drink I have asked for, and no longer demand the validation of another.
Desultory, once. And maybe it was thus.
Desultory, now. No longer.