Tea And Muffins

A simple tray bearing three small muffins—likely plain or lightly spiced, perhaps still warm—sits forgotten on the low table as tea service lingers untouched. Their moist tops glisten faintly above modest crowns of crumb, cooling beside the delicate china Litefoot had carefully arranged for the afternoon ritual. When the Doctor disrupts the scene, no one reaches for them; the interruption freezes an ordinary moment in place, leaving the muffins untouched witnesses to the abrupt end of connection.