Cups

Lucille balanced the silver tea-tray on one arm as she slid open the elevator door. She re-gripped the tray with both hands then stepped onto the light oak floor, flinching when the tea cups clinked, the soft sound seeming over-loud in the hush of Thomas's workshop. Clustered amid the white dust sheets was Thomas's collection of desks, the belt sander on the left-hand side and basically all the other tools needed for his inventions and toys. Thomas hadn't come to bed, he'd spent all night up here in the attic working on a blueprint, fallen asleep here too, she now saw. He'd slumped against his work desk with the Magician and nearly the rest of her childhood toys to watch over him. Directly across from her, early morning sunlight glittered through the attic's clear-paned starburst window, it fell over unruly raven curls and ivory skin. Expertly avoiding the creaky floorboards she placed the tea-tray beside the belt sander then still not making a sound she picked up the brown and black, white-striped and fringed blanket. A few moments later, she'd crossed the floor to place it gently around Thomas's shoulders. Tea could wait, Thomas needed his sleep. She trailed a finger over his cheekbone, dear Thomas, little Thomas, sleep...sleep.