Coughdrops ~ Benedict Cumberbatch

Daydreams and Impossible Scenarios

 Jasmine was in a daze as she walked home, barely registering her surroundings and only managing not to get lost because her feet had memorized the route.

I just met Benedict Cumberbatch, kept running through her head. I spoke to him, he spoke to me, we had a conversation, he buys the same coughdrops, he gave me biscuits?

“OI!!” someone yelled, snapping her back to reality.

“Sorry, sorry!” she called, waving back at the angry man in some sort of fancy car, which had almost run over her as she meandered across the street.

It won't do to be road-kill, Yazi, she scolded herself, now paying more attention to where she was going. Think about him later.

A twenty-minute walk and a bunch of stairs found Jasmine standing at the door to her flat, messing with her key-ring in an attempt to get inside so she could put down the shopping. Biscuits were nice, yes, but a box as large as the one she'd picked out—not to mention the few other things—was bulky and weighed quite a bit. Normally it wouldn't bother her, but being sick made her weak.

“A-ha,” she muttered gleefully, having finally found the right key. A few quick motions of her wrist and she was in, toeing off her shoes and shutting the door behind her.

“I remembered to lock it this time,” she said aloud, as she manoeuvred her free hand to turn the lock and bolt the door—something she often neglected to do.

Jasmine traipsed to the kitchen and gratefully set the shopping on the counter, then continued into the living room and flopped face-first onto the sofa.

“Warm,” she sighed happily, tucking her feet under the blanket that had been strewn over half of the dark green couch, as she appreciated the fact that her flat had a fireplace. It not only provided welcomed heat, but created a cosy atmosphere as well. Light from the flames danced across the syrup-coloured wallpaper, which was patterned with intricate white flowers, and added to the warm and safe feeling.

“Want tea,” Jasmine debated out loud—a very bad habit of hers—as her body warmed up, “but too lazy to move. Tea, or warm sofa. Hmm. Biscuits? Nah, not now. How about tea and sofa, and a coughdrop while I wait for the kettle.”

She swung her feet off the sofa and stood up. Then she headed to the kitchen, grabbing the blanket and wrapping it around her shoulders as she went.

The first thing she did when she entered her light-turquoise kitchen was locate the bag that held her cherry coughdrops. The packaging was a bit of a pain to get open, but she always managed, often with the help of scissors. This was despite the fact that the packaging clearly said “Tear Here”, and that scissors were supposedly not needed at all.

“One of the only things I like,” Jasmine muttered as she fiddled with the packaging, “about being sick, is I've got a valid excuse to buy these little buggers.”

The bag still wouldn't open.

“Grrrrrrrr—oh, hello.”

Now open, and quite noticeably ripped on one side, the bag let some of its contents jump out and spill all over the counter and floor.

“Damn. Should've known that would happen.”

Jasmine picked up one of the small, paper-wrapped coughdrops off of the counter.

“Let's see what words of wisdom I shall receive this time,” she mused. Each Halls coughdrop came individually wrapped in a small square of white, waxy paper. On it, little tan diamonds—about two centimetres across—offered short phrases of positive and encouraging words. Written in blue and surrounded by the tan diamond-shapes, the all-capital words had a cheerful and energetic air about them.