“Is there a bin?” I ask.
The man shrugs and turns his attention to the next person in line. I wander off to look for a bin. There isn’t one. I take a careful sip to avoid the teabag. The water is tepid; more milk than tea.
There’s a coffee machine by the far wall dispensing cappuccinos at the press of a button. I watch it enviously and take another sip. The teabag falls out and splashes against my nose.