Yes, that is correct.
My name is Rachel teer, by the way. (puts her hand out) You are?
Shakes her hand, "Florence."
"Depends on what you like honestly. Sweet teas I would go for something fruity- like pomegranate. But personally I like earthy teas, something that will help me meditate more.. Like chamomile or ginger.
"Ginger sounds like it would be something worth trying. I just might. Maybe put down the bourbon."
"Any reason in particular today was so stressful for you? Forgive me — I’m Florence. Florence Devlin.”
That one man must have a following and a forum to get his point across. People like that are a dime a dozen today with the internet, and no real change has been made.
"Here I was trying to share the idea that change could be obtainable, and we’re back to square one with having no hope, aren’t we? Guess there is no other choice but to stay the course.. and accept humanity for what it is.”
I am a marketing admin.
"Oh! The tea isn’t for my stress! It’s so I can go to sleep. My ADHD really kicks in when I need to go to bed. Tea helps."
"Does it now. Learn something new everyday. Any recommendations as far as flavors?"
That’s what I’ve been saying for years.
"Haven’t grown tired enough from saying it to want to be a bit hopeful and do something about it? What is that they say — one man can change an entire nation?”
Work was way too stressful today- I could use some tea.. Where is a tea shop from here?
"Not too sure where there would be a tea shop around here but— does tea even really ease stress?”
And goes to show how little people regard one another.
"Well, there is just no hope for humanity, is there."
Oh no. Just a little hobby. Photography something for fun but I don’t think I’m planning to make a career out of it. I already have a wonderful one right now.
"Oh, and what is this wonderful career of yours?”
“This is us — me and Karen,” she slurred, her finger waving gently over the picture before tapping it with her index finger, a snorted laugh following after, “I don’t know who’s fucking idea it was to wear those hideous velvet dresses.”
Florence, in her drunken stupor, raised the glass to her mouth, tapping it against her lower lip whilst her laugh began to fade. She tipped it back once her laughter settled, and let the rest of the watered down cranberry and vodka coat her throat with a swift swallow. She didn’t take her time to savor the taste since the desire to do so had been long gone ever since she polished off her first drink; the woman had now just finished her fifth. The ice fell against her partially parted lips, a few finding their way into her mouth. She pulled her head back upright, sloppily spitting the ice chips back into her glass before slamming the glass down on to her dining room table. The blonde sitting beside her, Allison, stared up to the raven haired woman nervously. Allison was a bit on edge, simply because she was not oblivious to what alcohol could turn a person in to. Florence was never a heavy drinker and hardly ever dabbled in anything other than a bottle of Chteau Margaux. So, it was safe to say that not only was Allison unsure of what could be the outcome of Florence’s excessive drinking, but so was Florence herself.