Tea

-What was it, he wonders. Her, simply her. That’s too simple isn’t it? A smile almost escapes him. Maybe there was more. He drinks his tea. She always had tea. Maybe it was the way she drank her tea, not that it was all that distinct, but it was, her. She would pour honey on the spoon, then squeeze lemon over it, before she sank it into the cup to dissolve. She’d never take the spoon out, even as she drank. She liked to mix the tea, even after the honey and lemon had stopped being honey and lemon. She would smile at him. She would always smile, as he watched her sip her tea.
He doesn’t sip he gulps. Before her disappearance, he never drank tea. It’s the little bit of her that still remains. It’s the little bit of her that even now keeps him from moving forward. His day is tailored to the possibility that she may reappear, that wherever she may be, their paths may soon cross again. So he drinks tea in the early afternoon, just as she used to. Every time they shared a meal in the evening, they’d have tea, as the sun fell, dimming the horizon. Now he sits alone, as the sun falls, doing everything she did, except sip. Back when she’d sip, he’d gulp, coffee never tea. Now, it’s tea, citrus tea. She never had any other kind it was always the same, always citrus. She’d raise the cup in her hand, forming a fist around the cup’s handle and place her right hand underneath the cup. Always bearing its weight.
There was always so much inside her, though she’d never show it. Just smiles and every so often laughter. It was the moments of laughter; he loved those. It was when he was able to see inside. She caught on. She stopped laughing as much, only the smiles stayed. Even these were less. As hers became less, his became more. He tried to encourage hers by creating his own. Thinking, maybe his would have the same effect on her, as her own had had. It failed; he stopped smiling too. All that remained was that look in her eyes, deep behind the sullenness. It was that look, it played a part. It was part of the what, of the why.
Every time they sat together, that’s what drew him close. He would watch her and be amazed at it, wondering always what it was, knowing it was something wonderful. When she’d laugh, when she’d smile, he could almost see it. His heart would almost swell. When the smiles and the laughter disappeared, he would smile, because he knew it was still there, behind her eyes. She almost took offense. She started questioning his smiles and his occasional laughter. His response then, was simply to gulp his coffee. She’d let it be and stir her almost empty cup. It was darker then, the sun having fallen, the cool breeze waking. There was less between them. Still even then, he saw somewhere in her eye that glimmer. Something wonderful perhaps.
Then she disappeared, and he could not find her. He went to have coffee and found himself drinking tea.
Waiting.