Lavender Tea [Flash Fiction]

Lavender Tea

The sky was hung with clouds thick and white as cotton. The air was stagnant, overwhelmingly so, and filled with choking moisture from the previous night's rainfall. It stuck to her skin as she pushed the rest of the dirt onto the pile.

Sweat sprung up on her forehead. She pushed. The hole had taken her quite a lot longer than she expected it would, and her arms and hands ached for a break. It wasn't as easy as it was in the movies. She labored with her shovel until the hole she had dug was covered with a thick layer of dirt. She sprinkled handfuls of yellow grass seed on top. With a nod to herself, she laid the shovel down and stepped back into her home.

She wandered into the kitchen, downing a cup of ice water with a ferocious gulp. She placed the cup into the sink, carefully stepping around the coagulating puddle of blood seeping into the tile grout. Whether it was hers or her husband's, she didn't have a clue. Not that it mattered now, of course.

She spotted a pink ceramic mug on the counter. Her tea! She had forgotten all about it after her husband came down that morning. She dumped it swiftly into the sink and grabbed another tea bag from it's cardboard box. Lavender, her favorite. She started the stove, wrapping the bottom of her tea kettle in blue flames.

She stepped back, observing. The puddle was turning a sickly brown now. The holes in the walls from his fists gaped expressionless at her like eyes. She avoided their gaze, scooping up a pile of paper that had scattered across the floor and tapped them straight on the table. She righted a fallen chair. Scrubbed the floor. Placed pictures over the black holes in the walls. He had always taught her to clean up well, regardless of how big the mess he made was. By the time she had straightened up the last picture frame, a lovely photo from years ago when they had taken a holiday in Cancun, her tea kettle whistled cheerfully.

She cut the flame and poured the steaming water into her mug. The teabag soaked up the water and seeped in the lavender slowly. She rose the cup to her face and inhaled. The steam swirled around her nose, sweet and ghostly. She exhaled. Shuffling, she meandered over to her armchair in the sitting room down the hall. She sipped her lavender tea as she sank into the cushions.

The sparrows began their feast on the grass seeds. Sirens wailed down the street. They were not wailing for her yet.