Uneven Edges

Tea Party

Minty pieces of serene catalogs grace the lace-covered table.

Crisp cucumbers, edges etched with rugged charm, barely scraping at any chance of escape.

I am Alice, and she, the rabbit, keeping watch over my time.

Venturing deep into the Mad Hatter's robust façade.

The evil queen poised to behead my heart, filling her tiny cupcakes.

Pass the basket of petals, let them ascend, up, up, and away.

Slowly lifting my mask, revealing a crooked smile and pursed lips.

Not meeting my creator, but the craftsman of what I left my soul with.

Tea is simple, but a sip chokes the frog lodged so deep lids begin to water.

Losing remnants of dignity, yet I'm not feeble, a skeleton with bones intact but reshaped.

I'm okay with this exchange of laughter and darkened lips.

Character: Melony (Facing her lover's mother)

As Melony smoothed her dress, raised bumps formed across her arms. This wasn't an ordinary meeting, but one charged with fiery intent. You wouldn't guess from the elegant tea setting, prepared for two. Veronica, stout with perfect curls just below her shoulders, her red lipstick, oh, the red lipstick, accentuating every smile and frown.

For a fleeting moment, Melony thought if she wiped away Veronica's makeup, a kinder woman might peer back. But a throat cleared, signaling it was time to address the real purpose of the meeting.

Veronica spoke, "Alright, Ms. Constance, let's discuss my son."

"Oh no," thought Melony. No one used her last name, not even her coworkers. This wasn't how Melony wanted to meet his mother.

"Ms. Constance, my son was quite the spontaneous adventurer. I see this is no different."

"I was no spontaneous act, I can assure you," Melony retorted before she could gather her emotions.

Vanessa persisted, "Why he left you his estate, flower garden in France, and his financial accounts, I'll never understand."

Melony wouldn't look down. This was a time to be strong. Talking about him like he was careless cut through everything she held within.

"Ms. Constance, you'll inherit everything my son had, except my acceptance. A lawyer will be in touch. This matter is out of my hands."

"Okay."

That was all Melony could muster. She stood abruptly, knocking over a teacup. It rolled to a stop, crashing into the wall beneath a painted portrait of him and his mother.

In the distance, Vanessa's voice echoed, "Coward."

Melony pushed through the steel doors, found her footing, and reached her car. That evening, Melony held her own tea party, no makeup, hair a mess, with a box of cereal. A pen and paper lay near her spoon.

Yes, a poem would be fitting to mark the day. To release herself from the body that once belonged to him.

But he was gone, leaving space for one in a coffin.