j-a-t

As he sat there, the bustle of the teahouse carried on around him. He sat quietly at his rough hewn table against the wall. The sounds of the other patrons and the calls and smells of the herb market just outside blended around him unnoticed much like the cooling cup of indistinguishable tea that sat on his table untouched and all but forgotten since the first taste . To him it all just tasted like dirty water, but hey, when in Rome. After scanning the crowd again for the umpteenth time his attention was drawn back to the ragged photo that sat on the table in front of him. It was time warn and the colors had long since faded, one corner stil