The tea was piping hot and Poala was unusually quiet as she added some light cream to it.
I shifted in my seat nervously, taking in her carefully composed expression as she brought the delicate ceramic cup to her lips, her eyes unapologetically set on me. There was so much going on behind those eyes, her brain clearly working through the situation, and I could feel that she was hesitant to break the silence.
It seemed to span on forever, this delicate reprieve.
If there were a clock, I was certain I'd hear its careful tick.
It was a droning, volatile kind of silence.
I wondered why I felt the urge to end it.
"I . . . um."
The few words fumbled out of my mouth with too much space and not much meaning behind them. Though the silence was heavy and uncomfortable, I didn't know what to
