"You ever hear the tale of the wandering tea kettle?" she asked, her voice like the distant ringing of a foghorn. The lamp cast shadows that danced on the walls—a ballet of the forgotten.
Back in 1847, they say a kettle roamed the docks of London, steaming tales of adventure to anyone who'd listen. It wasn't just a kettle, mind you, but a harbinger of stories, an oracle of Earl Grey destinies.
People dressed in frock coats and parasols would gather 'round, their curiosity piqued by the whistle that seemed to sing. "The kettle knows all," they'd murmur, "more than the constables and less afraid than the cats."
These encounters were never written down, never documented in any ledger, and yet here we are, recounting this myth.
It’s funny, isn’t it? How a simple object can encapsulate so much. The kettle’s legacy survives not through fact, but through whispers.
Perhaps it still wanders, seeking new docks, new tales, in this vast world that's grown smaller yet still so unexplored.