Bitter Tea

I wrinkled my nose, my eyes squinted tight, blinking out the sneeze pestering my nostrils. 

The pungent scent of hot ginger had never seated right with me since the day I became unfortunately aware of its noxious existence. On a tray and up the stairs, I'd bear with it day after day when I was young; if only in the hope that it'll make Mom feel a little better just as Dad assured me it would. 

Along with an array of porridges, tablets, cough drops… you get the picture. 

But for the time being, with what I had available to me currently, ginger would suffice.

"Oh no, don't, don't - I can smell that from here," Amanda continued to protest, sniveling and red-nosed, snapping her head at me from the back of the couch. "Please don't. You'll only make it official if you make me drink that."