It was made of fine copper, and looked like a big cup with a lid.

While friends huddled collegiately around a teapot and shared a few moments of communality, I, an inveterate teabag user, would slink quietly back to my desk with my selfish mug for one.

When there was nothing much left to say, he curled his fingers around the teacup and studied its shape, and Siyu pictured him as a young boy, spreading his slender fingers on the cold keys of a piano.