Harold smiled and leaned back in his chair. "There's nothing like a brew to remind you you're home," he said. "I don't know if it's the water, the kettle or the peculiar breed of algae we have in the artesian well but nowhere does tea like this."
"You don't think it has anything to do with the hours I spend blending leaves of Assam, Darjeeling and half a dozen other varieties then?" Jasfoup raised an eyebrow as he waited for an answer.
"You do no such thing," said Harold. "I know for a fact this is an off-the-shelf blend you bought at the supermarket."
Jasfoup gave up. Harold never accounted for the hours he didn't have to waste in sleep. His night-shift job at the tea company was respected and hereditary, or at least that's what he'd told bosses when he'd worked there for ninety years.
Image: Tea Classified: A Tealover's Companion