Afternoon Tea

They met at a place called Xha.

No one remembers building it. It sits on the edge of a dead road, where maps curl back on themselves and the sky forgets what colour to wear. The teahouse has no sign, but it’s always open at four. No earlier. Never later. He arrived first. Pale hands, long coat. Shoes too clean for travel. He chose the table by the far window, though there were no windows, just walls that flickered with reflections that didn’t match the room. She followed minutes later. Red gloves. A brooch shaped like a mouth. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, but it stayed longer than necessary. She sat without invitation. The table set itself. Two cups. One sugar bowl. No spoons. The air smelled like smoke and honey.

“Do you remember why you came?” she asked.

He didn’t answer. The teacups filled with something that wasn’t quite tea. Too dark. Too still. It didn’t steam. She stirred hers with her finger.

“Time, isn’t it? Time has a way of folding. Makes everything happen again, only worse.”

The walls shuddered. He looked down. In his cup, a single tooth floated.

“You’ve brought something for me?” she asked.

He nodded, opened his coat. Inside was a small box, humming quietly. He placed it between them. The box trembled. From beneath the table, something giggled. She reached forward but didn’t touch it.

“You shouldn’t have brought that here.”

“You asked for it,” he said.

“I asked for tea.”

The lights dimmed, then flickered back with an extra chair now pulled up. No one sat in it, but the teacup was full. Red, thick, bubbling at the rim. He tried not to look at it. The box kept humming. Outside, a shadow passed by where the window wasn’t.

She leaned forward.

“They know. You waited too long.”

“I had no choice.”

“You always had choice. That was the problem.”

She reached into her bag, pulled out a napkin stained with something moving.

“Would you like lemon?”

He shook his head. The walls sighed. The table began to sink. The box opened. It didn’t make a sound, but his mouth filled with blood. She sipped her not-tea and smiled.

“Next time, bring spoons.”

He nodded as his teeth began to fall, one by one, onto the saucer.
Afternoon tea ended, as it always did in Xha, with something missing. 

And someone new at the table.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                        ~D.G