The Last Drop

I retired this pretty cracked old teacup today after filling it with one last cup of tea. While I drank it I thought about my paternal grandmother because she favoured china with painted roses and wondered about M's grandmother, unknown to me, whose cup this once was.

I think that the crack happened during a spirited conversation when this cup was set into its saucer so emphatically that its foot was loosened from the cup. Now, although it feels solid, tea leaks from it into the saucer. I think it's had a good run.