Tea and sanctuary

To some extent, I'd broken the tension, I saw. Grateful for something straightforward and everyday, my colleagues gave me their various orders for tea and coffee - and I headed off to the small kitchen.

It was almost a completely normal situation - only the absence of any "about time, too," or "wonders will never cease" banter being out of the ordinary.

Out in the corridor leading to the kitchen, I let out a long, ragged breath, making me realise how tense my breathing had become.

I busied myself with cups and kettle, spooning coffee and raking through the cupboards to find some of the more exotic teabags that had been requested. Echinacea, raspberry and nettle? Hmm...maybe try a cup? Or maybe not.

The simple task and the need to remember the various combinations of sugar, milk and strength of tea was something I was finding relaxing. The kitchen was unthreateningly ordinary, and I felt more at ease than I had done so far today.

You can do this, I thought to myself. You're going to make your colleagues some drinks in a calm and competent way, you're going to take them through to them, and you're going to chill out. It's just another day and you're going to be perfectly at ease.

Ah, the power of positive thinking. On reflection, I probably shouldn't have said the words "You can do it" rather more loudly and emphatically than I'd intended.

"What was that, Alan?" said the voice behind me.

Shit.

Better make another echinacea, raspberry and nettle. Most of it was on the floor now.



Story begins here.