That Is The Problem With People Having Opinions

Ada asks why I'm with you.
She's pouring tea - her sleeve
grazing the lip of her teacup
then mine. I shrug.
Maybe I'll get rid one day,
I say. She lifts a beaded cover
from the jug. Under one raised
eyebrow she expresses doubt.
French Fancy? It's sickening
I bite the yellow fondant.
Can't swallow this. She plops
a sugar cube into each cup.
Using her silver tongs.
Stares at me and stirs.
She knows I don't take it.