Once upon a time a young walked into the kitchen with a great purpose. He got out a saucepan and a spoon and set to work. He was making cocoa for a queen.

The young man got a glass bottle of milk out of the refridgerator. The bottle was cool and smooth against his hand. He poured some milk into the pan, white into black, cold liquid into warm metal. He put the milk away and adjusted the heat of the stove. It had to be just right. He was making cocoa for a queen and it had to be perfect.

From a cupboard the young man got a container of dark brown cocoa powder. Air puffed into the container as he snapped the plastic lid off and a cloud of bitter powder floated out to tickle his face. He added some cocoa to the milk and gave it a stir. Then he added some more and stirred again. He stirred, the floating powder dark against the blue-white milk, the earth smell of cocoa lingering in the air. The young man added more whiteness to the saucepan in the form of sugar, the grains falling immediatley to the bottom and scratching against the spoon and the pan. He stirred in quick, sharp stirs, the milk and cocoa powder making brown bubbles that danced on the surface of the liquid.

The sugar dissolved and the young man added bright vanilla, musky cinnamon and sweet nutmeg and stirred, stirred, stirred. Then he poured himself a sample and tasted it. It was warm, creamy, the sweet and bitter blending into something entirely new. The spices sat on top of the bitter sweet, part of it, but distinct. The young man rolled the swallow around his mouth and put down the spoon. He was satisfied. The queen would enjoy this cocoa.

He carefully poured the warm drink into a mug the color of fresh-picked apples. The drink filled the mug up to its brim, a bit of steam coming off the top. The young man lifted the mug, enjoying the warmth on his hands, and carried it into the other room.

This room was simple and simply furnished. The walls were a light, nuetral color and the furniture was sparse. There was only a bed with metal rails on each side, a small table next to the bed and a chair. Propped up in the bed was a queen.

As the young man approached she opened her eyes and smiled at him. The sun slanted in the window and made her white hair glow. She seemed delighted to see him though he’d only been gone as long as it had taken to prepare the cocoa. The young man approached the bed and the queen with a smiled he reserved just for her. Gently, tenderly, he lifted one of her hands and wrapped it around the mug.

“Here, Grandma”, he said, “I made you some cocoa.”