Raspberry Tea

Part of my "End of the World" series.

He spilled the raspberry ice tea all over his shirt, creating a dripping, graceless stain on it. As he continued to stare at her, she kept smiling and laughing, avoiding his gaze. He picked up the cup and moved closer, the smell of raspberry tea appalling his nose. I could tell, for his nose was crinkled and his mouth dropped. He stood in front of her, spreading the news of his sweet, sweet tea. She didn't hear him nor see him. Or so he thought. As he stole a napkin and rubbed his cold, leaking chest, he caught her look.

“Hello, Heather.”

“Hi-” she said. I won't mention his name for his own sake. Her voice brought a certain serenity to his face that I had never seen before, as if his whole world was getting better each minute he spoke to her.

As I sipped on my water with a hint of lime, she walked around him as he let out a faint good-bye. They parted quickly, and he was once again in a state of dissatisfaction. He threw the glass of ice against the floor as the other teens stared at him. As if he cared!

He walked out as I hurried behind him. The icy wind of the night had no effect on his stained shirt.

“What was that all about?” I asked.

“I'm so done.” he said.

“With what?”

“With all of it. I...I don't know. I'm just tired of this crap. All of this...” his voice echoed a milky lust and a languished passion. I doubted if I could sooth him. Nothing I could say would erase the stench of raspberry tea.

He stood there and stroked his wrinkled cotton shirt. The stain was only partially beginning to dry. I saw his eyes peer into the moon.

Reach for the moon. If you don't make it, at least you'll be amongst the stars.

But he was right here on the ground. The raspberry languor of the late night permeated through the roads and glowing trees. I saw his eyes; they were dreaming. I stayed with him, tempted to leave him to sulk.

“Onto bigger and better things. I'll get my chance.” His hope had a certain sophistry to it, as if he had truly given up. And yet, I felt a sense as if he was ready to embrace raspberry tea ten times over. In his misty eyes I could not tell if I saw the lovely face of Heather or the wet moon. He walked into a march behind me with his flowing red blazer and slightly misshapen head.

“Let's go.” he said. To where we were going he did not know.

Author's Note

This is a quickie. I kinda like it, sorta vague but refreshing(like ice tea!).

Reviews

[Xavier Lee]

I might have said "appalling in his nose" Or perhaps a different word, repulsive, maybe. I like this mini series. It's kinda fun.