The Tea Party


What a day to start?  The TIME IN machine reads 1:00 pm.  Another almost-late entry to the only grey edifice in this metro.  A pattern seems to develop out of this adrenaline-rush-inducing habit of mine.  Yet, I can’t let got of the thrill of dodging in between making it and being late.

For now, I made it. 🙂

If only I could sustain this, I could get me that long-coveted attendance bonus. Dreams at day or even night; this one isn’t bad, is it?

By the way, I’m Jonah, and I work here as a writer.  Some days are bad, I end up sulking: I would spite this forsaken job, this nameless role as a ghostwriter.  Some days are good: I could actually revel in my anonymity.  Yet, today isn’t about me.  This Monday afternoon has been reserved for the coming of a new web designer.

I took my mug into the office pantry. Time to rinse off some invisible dust. The water dispenser chugs in tune to spitting a steaming hot stream of water.

Mondays are for peppermint tea,” I declared.

The ritual didn’t last for more than three minutes. I find myself settled in this cozy cube, nimble fingers gradually taking over the jitters of a waking computer.  The email check hadn’t lasted long. Well, that’s me Jonah — always ahead of any deadline.  And before I could go full speed, an exaggerated clear-throat noise resonates in the work hall.

A balding man, the one we all call boss, briefly attempts to collect everyone’s eyes. “Folks, let me introduce, our new web designer, Mr. Andes Rasin.

The timid newcomer mutters and nods his hello.  This was automatically drowned by a mumbo-jumbo of greetings from the rest of the employees. While everyone was pinning him with that look of curiosity, I was left alone, distant from the whole scene.

In my mind, two words came in a whisper – It’s him

It was easy to make out his form.  Andes hadn’t been much different; he remains to wear the same lanky build.  His expression is, however, changed.  And before I could continue peering, Andes’ eyes fell in my direction.  Our eyes met for a brief second that it was just impossible to process what it meant.

She heard them laugh.

“Oh no, was it about me?” I asked.  No answer came; instead, I heard more bursts of laughter.  I had to retrace my steps, I need to be careful. My knees were shaking. It took like forever to feel the unforgivable jerk of these joints. Right then, I knew what I needed.

Clad in pink heels, I ran and climbed nonstop. Alone at the building’s rooftop, there was only silence to greet me. Or so I thought. Their laughter rang in the air.  It sounded menacing, jeering even like the hyenas in a Lion King film.  I can’t stand it.

Stop, stop, stop it!” I pleaded.  My voice blocked their laughter.

Andes took her mug.  He heard it from the boys that Jonah’s into tea.  Shoving a Twinning’s tea bag, he sat in the sofa near the water dispenser and thought: of the two days he’d spent in this new workplace, he has yet, to approach Jonah.

She might sulk.  “Nah, I don’t want her to sulk; I want her to smile at me,Andes said to himself.  He had recognised her.  That Jonah he’d used to play with in grade school is all grown up.  He didn’t got the full hour to reminisce. He literally sat up straight when Jonah entered the room of cubes.  She went straight to her desk, while he, silent as a mouse, trailed.

Andes set the mug at Jonah’s table, surprising her.

Andes: “Are you sulking because I haven’t approached you?

Jonah: “No.”

Andes went on to ask where she went for college.  She was cautious at first, answering in short, crisp words. Eventually, their chat stretched long, that they hadn’t notice the Boss coming close.  He coughed that noisy kind.  Andes and Jonah heard it, looked at each other, and understood.



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