[ RF ] Write a product preview for a teapot . Move me with it .

Let me just preface this with saying that I've never owned this teapot; I've never even used it. Still, I ca n't remember a single good memory without it. Although I guess those day are behind me now. 
 
 To be honest: it did n't really serve its purpose that well. It was slow and gave the tea a metallic aftertaste. I think she would've been heartbroken if she knew I'd been lying about the tea all these years but I could n't stand the thought of telling her. She was always funny like that; Could n't probably tell the difference between a pear and an apple, but if she knew that she was eating something rare or expensive it was suddenly the most scrumptious thing she'd ever tasted. I guess it had something to do with her childhood. She always told me about the first time she tried chocolate, probably thinking she'd never told me before. Just recalling that sparkle in her eyes sends eerie shivers down my spine. 
 
 Every Tuesday for twenty years, barring those when I was at summer camp, I visited her. The teapot always stood ready on the center of the table, surrounded by a sea of biscuits that could feed a small village. Mum never wanted me to eat sweet things so I figured that this was to compensate, and compensate it did. We sat for hours on end, just talking and having some tea. As a small child I found it a bit boring, but as the years went by I started relishing those Tuesdays more and more. It was always so quiet in her house. You could actually hear the clocks ticking. She never raised her voice and treated me like an equal. In retrospect I'm always embarrassed for the countless times I tried to explain Pokémon or Yu-gi-oh, or whatever was the craze of the week, to her. I wish I had asked more, instead of talking all the time. 
 
 I would say that this teapot feels like home to me but that would be a lie. I never liked it much at home. No, this teapot feels like Grannie's. 
 
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