A Tea Time Story

Her throat was hurting from the three day old fever. Her voice felt like someone else’s. Far from what Aditya, her editor drooled over and cheekily called sexy. The otherwise humid air of the room felt like frozen fingers on her scalp. When she breathed, it felt like she was overdosing on Fishermen’s Mint.

She looked at the steaming cup of tea that her maid had kept on her desk. Rewrapping the shawl tightly around herself, she heaved herself from the bed and walked towards her chair.

She had to get her second post up tonight. She had been appointed as a writer for this frequently visited website recently and there were deadlines for her second story.

She took an uncertain sip from her cup of tea. It was piping hot and tasted of cloves and black pepper. Black pepper was excellent for sore throats. It felt so wonderful that she literally wanted to drown herself in it.

She had framed this new plot in her mind, some days back, but now it completely eluded her. Her mind wandered to forgotten conversations, long lost things and childhood. She figured she wanted a warm, warm bath. She got up from her chair, went up to her door and latched it. Then she trudged back to her desk and threw her shawl aside.

Then, hesitantly, she climbed into her cup of tea, one shivering foot at a time.