The Tea Store
The quaint tea store, its ambience almost ancient, was tucked away behind a flashy TRAK sign.
The aroma of fresh tea wafted over as I passed it. I wondered if the tea leaves would know my future’s stories.
“One l..lump or.rr. two, sir?” the old lady asked, a nervous stutter in her voice.
I hadn’t the heart to refuse.
“You can never leave without finishing the cup.”
I smiled, draining the cup at once.
“Delicious,” I told her, and turned to leave.
But the shutter was closed.
The old lady laughed seeing my puzzled look.
The cup had filled again.
(© 24th June 2015)