The small table was near my mothers bed, as long as I remembered, as was the vase which is on it. The chair I found two month ago, near the garbage, someone changed his furniture.
The kitchen door is open. Behind my teapot I use seldom as usually I take a cafe, one can see the tulips on the wall, I did buy that in Bucarest years ago and cherish it too.
The sun is coming in the room and warms the small table, old and new memories mix together and give me a warm feeling.