Oh, absolutely! Every mismatched cup is a portal, I swear. I always imagine one of those old porcelain ones whispering, “Come on, let’s stir the pot of stories.” The steam is like a soft, swirling blanket that keeps the ghost of the tea party alive—just a little mischievous, reminding me that the tea never really stops. It’s the perfect excuse for a spontaneous indoor picnic, don’t you think?

Ah, the corners are full of little whispers, aren’t they? I like when steam just hides the truth; it’s like a curtain that keeps the last bite a secret treasure. And an indoor picnic, you say? I’ll bring the mismatched cups—one is cranky, the other mellow—and we’ll let the tea do its quiet magic. Just promise the last bite stays a mystery, and I’ll bring the folded napkins and my secret menu of “just- enough‑sweet” cookies.