It was a slow day in the tea shop, just like the day before and as it will be tomorrow. The people in Storybrooke don't seem to be a big fan of it. Matthew leaned against the desk with a soft sigh as he tapped at a small teapot in-front of him. It was white with a tiny door-mouse painted on it. It was his favorite. It always had been for some reason, even though he couldn't quite recall where he picked it up or how it got it. 

Still, it was his, just as the lonely shop was. He gave another sigh as he peered out the front window at the people going by. Happy families. Some of them at least. Students running off home as the finally escape the clutches of school. Young lovers enjoying the setting sun. 

And what did he have? Nothing but tea. Lots. Lots of tea.