I had heard that the tea shop on the corner was the most bizarre place to visit after nightfall. The proprietor put away her selection of black teas, green teas, leaf teas--all the regular fare--at sundown, and she brought out otherworldly mixes. When I walked in late one Friday night, I was surrounded by conflicting scents. I stopped on the threshold and inhaled deeply, trying to identify the different aromas. Lavender, oregano, something sulfuric. There were too many from too broad a spectrum: sweet, bitter, savory, sour. I coughed once, twice. A head appeared from being a towering stack of something labeled Identi-Tea.
"Welcome. How may I help you?"
The saleswoman was tall and birdlike, with thin bones and narrowed eyes. She stepped behind the counter and spread her hands out as if to gesture to the whole store.
I looked up, down, all around. The store was quite small. There were no freestanding shelves, only enough room for shelves along the walls. Even the large windows at the front of the store had shelves against them. A long, slender door on the back wall indicated further storage space. It was supposedly through this door that the saleswoman exchanged the day goods for these strange night ones. It was just me and her that night.
"I was just curious," I said. "I heard you had some unique teas."
"Ah, would you like some Curiosi-Tea?" She snatched a box from the shelf behind her and held it up like a woman in a soap commercial.
"What's in it?" I asked.
"Oh no," she replied with a smile. "That's part of the fun. I can't tell you what's in these teas."
"Then how do I know I will like it?"
"You just know."
I frowned. "What am I smelling?"
"A bit of everything," she said vaguely.
"Right. What else do you have?"
"Hmmm. I think I'm getting a good read on you. Try some of this."
She handed me a small gold box. I moved it around to find the name of the tea.
"There's not much here," I said.
"A little bit of Cruel-Tea goes a long way."
"Can you at least tell me if it's sweet or bitter?"
"Oh, very bitter."
I placed it on the counter and reached for my back pocket. "I'll take it."
I paid for it and left, feeling like wisps of tea smoke trailed out the door in my wake. It had been warm in the shop, but the night had fallen cold. A light drizzle had started to fall, and I was without hat or umbrella. The street was deserted, most of the shop doors shuttered and the lights off. With no taxi in sight, I decided to hoof it home, my specialty tea tucked safely in my pocket. I buttoned my coat all the way to my chin.
A homeless man suddenly reached out from the shadows on the sidewalk. "Do you have any spare change? I have had nothing to eat today."
I stopped and gazed down at him, but my eyes wouldn't adjust the darkness. But I could smell him. I longed to back in the cacophony of the tea scents. I spat at the sidewalk beside him.
"Rot and die," I said. "Then you won't have to eat."
And I hurried on to get away from him. It wasn't until several blocks later, when I was nearly home, that I realized my pocket was empty. I must have dropped my Cruel-Tea near the tramp.
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