Aelia

Aelia sat alone in the corner, her fingers tracing the rim of a long-cold cup of tea. Steam had long since abandoned it, just as he had abandoned her. She wore a cream sweater, *his favorite* its sleeves pulled over her hands as if to hide the absence of his touch. Her dark curls, usually so carefully pinned, tumbled loose around her face, a silent rebellion against the elegance she once wore for him.