Stories

Alice’s Tea Party

Stirring the spoon in the tea with the monotony of having attended one too many of these inane gatherings. Since my first, eager participation at the front table I've found my seat move closer and closer to the exit doors. That is not to say that I'm not attentive, how is such a state achieved when the speaker is at a whispers distance and the orator underestimates the utility of a microphone. Every word is an atomic bomb going off in the foundations of each cilia in the ear. Until I reach complete deafness I'll be soaking in the words of her piercing tongue.

She babbles on about the last of our meetings with her, as if it should put a damper on my spirits, oh how lonely a world without her incessant shrieking. Such an incomplete life would be a sin to continue living, dear you rip my heart with what you speak. These are your words; there rust, and let me die.

She seems to be wrapping up her speech and I see the older ladies, in their surreptitious manner, drop the complimentary jams, butter and chocolates in their bags. They buckle their black, red, and brown purses and ready themselves to leave, not before taking an other sip of their most delectable Glühwein.

The presenter says her final goodbyes and all the anxious ladies can't wait to get home and dump out their goods so they may count their loot. One by one they pass me as I continue to stir my tea. Not one of these ladies spare a glance my way as they beeline to the exit. Once the room is vacated by all but myself I stop my stirring and and place my spoon on the saucer plate. I lift the tea to my lips sip it once for proper measure, here's to my love and drink it down in one breath. O true apothecary!

The tea cup is emptied but the rim remains upon my lips, allowing the paint to stain the cup. My vision blurs a little as my body gives out scheduled shivers. My lifted pinky of the hand clasping the handle of the cup begins to quake. My body now vibrating uncontrollably.

A hand rests upon my shoulder calming the natural disasters taking place within my tiny frame. I look out the corner of my eye only to finally move the cup from my lips and place it on the table. I smile. The hand extends itself, I place mine upon his and get up off my seat. Looking at this individual I follow him out the room.

Daily prompt Tea

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