A Deep Breath

The day greeted Angie with more excitement than she could muster. She woke up feeling the familiar tug of anxiety in her chest, but she pushed it aside as the morning light spilled into her bedroom through the cracks in her curtains. The muffled song of birds chirping floated faintly through her closed window, and she rolled over, stared at the ceiling for a moment, then swung her legs out of bed. She shuffled to the window, yawning heavily as she pulled the curtains aside and took in the view. The outdoors gleamed, a perfectly bright blue-sky day. 

She sighed, trying and failing to shake the weight that hung in her mind. Nobody is here, nothing is happening today, she reminded herself. Even that did not bring the relief that she’d hoped for. It was the first weekend she’d had to herself in what was likely years, and Angie’s mind was fighting the weight of her stress with the hope that she would get around to her ideas on how to spend it: visiting the park, catching up on a book, or maybe even tackling the clutter that had taken over her apartment. Maybe today would be the day that she finally cleaned up!

The truth was, the clutter embarrassed her. Angie’s job as an accountant kept her on her toes, and between work and an endless list of social obligations, she rarely had the time or energy to tidy up. The constant humdrum of life wore on her like sandpaper on wood, slowly removing every defense she had the energy to produce. She was close to a mental breakdown, and her rooms weren’t getting any cleaner. Every corner of her tiny two-room apartment bore the evidence of her overpacked life: a shoebox with her childhood Elmo tucked inside sat on the coffee table, a Flamenco dress from a family trip to Spain hung precariously from the back of a chair, and stacks of unread mail and random knick-knacks were piled on the countertops.

Angie pinched the bridge of her nose, berating herself silently. “This is ridiculous. I’ll clean later,” she muttered. She said this often, and never followed through, but right now, there was one thing that would ease the weight on her mind better than anything else.

Tea.

Tea was her sanctuary, her everyday ritual that never failed to soothe her or carry her through the chaos in her life. For years she had gathered everything: from earthy oolongs to tangy hibiscus to smoky lapsang souchong, every imaginable blend, all in one drawer. The prospect of choosing her morning tea had excitement shining through her exhaustion.

Stretching lazily, Angie wandered out of her bedroom in her nightgown. She flicked on lights here and there as she navigated the messy space, twisting past the Flamenco dress and the shoebox with the ease of routine. In the kitchen, she opened her tea drawer and took a deep breath. The harmony of scents tackled her like an old friend, laughing and hugging her like she hadn’t seen them in years, and for a moment, the tightness eased in her chest. Tea was like that to Angie, an old friend that she got to meet for the first time over and over. 

“What are we feeling today?” she mused aloud. Her fingers sifted through the options briskly until one blend, one aroma, presented itself to her like magic, and every sense pointed toward it. She didn’t even remember where it’d come from. It was shoved to the back of the drawer, she must’ve picked it up out of curiosity and forgotten about it. Carefully, she removed it, reading the ingredient list and the name. The package was labeled “Serenity” in an elegant script.

“Why not?” Angie murmured as she tore open the package, abandoning caution. The scent was indescribable—floral, citrusy, with a hint of something else, something she couldn’t put her finger on, though it felt familiar. She steeped the tea, eagerly watching the steam curl into the air, feeling the relaxing warmth emanating into her bones. Then, she carefully poured the tea into her mug, a favorite of hers that had bright floral patterns around the sides along with a tasteful lavender background.

Taking a deep breath, she raised the mug to her lips. The first sip was warm, rich, the flavors unfolding in layers, each distinct in its own way. She took a second to savor the feel and the taste in her mouth, and finally she swallowed, sighing softly with pleasure. As she swallowed, she heard a sound, like a twig snapping in a dense forest, and suddenly, she felt like she was floating. For a second, she panicked—were the tea leaves drugged? Then her vision blurred, and the room tilted. 

Her final thought, laced with bittersweet humor, was that if this sip were her last, she wouldn’t complain much—it was almost worth it.

Then her eyes rolled back, and everything went dark.

When Angie’s vision cleared and her eyes were properly situated in her head once more, she was no longer in her kitchen. Nowhere near it, it seemed. She lay—she’d lost her balance when her vision went dark—in a pillowy grass, unlike any she’d encountered before. Staring up, her field of vision was filled with that of a lovely lavender sky streaked with gold. She sniffed the air experimentally, and the natural aroma of wildflowers and fresh rain greeted her. Angie shivered with pleasure; she loved that smell, it reminded her of some of her favorite teas. Nearby, she heard the soft babble of a brook, and she turned her head toward the noise. It was a small distance away, some thirty feet, and the water gleamed like liquid crystal. It was one of the most picturesque things she’d ever seen. Angie blinked, standing up as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. 

Somehow, she’d been transported to somewhere similar to the picture on her mug. 

“This has to be a dream,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. But she wasn’t convinced; the sensation of warmth on her skin from the beautiful golden sun above and the tickle of grass beneath her bare feet felt much too real to be part of a dream.

In the distance, a figure approached moving impossibly fast. Angie tensed, her heart racing, but as the figure came into focus, she saw it was a young woman with shimmering silver hair and eyes like opals. She wore flowing robes that seemed to shift colors with every step.

“Welcome, Angie,” the woman said, her voice melodic. “I’m Elira, and I’ve been expecting you.”

“Expecting me?” Angie asked, bewildered. "Why? Where am I?”

“You’re in the Realm of Serenity,” Elira replied. “A place between worlds, accessible only to those in desperate need of respite. That tea you drank was enchanted, a gift from our realm. I knew you were coming before you did.”

Angie’s mind reeled. She opened her mouth to respond, but Elira held up a hand. “Before you ask, yes, this is real. And, additionally, you have powers here.”

“Powers?” Angie said, struggling to keep up. She flapped her hand helplessly, waving in every direction, “This can’t be real. Look at all of this! And you said tea brought me here? Enchanted tea? That’s just crazy.”

Elira just smiled. “Your life has been weighed down by stress, hasn’t it? Here, you’ll find what you’ve been missing.” She made a quick gesture, snapping her fingers and clapping, and Angie felt a surge of energy course through her. Her legs tingled, and before she could process what was happening, she moved—fast. One moment, she stood beside Elira, and the next, she was at the edge of the brook, thirty feet away.

“What the…?” Angie gasped, staring down at her feet. She felt as though she could run forever, and quickly, at that.

“Speed,” Elira said, appearing beside her as if she’d never moved. “Your power here is speed, a reflection of the pace you’ve been forced to keep in your world. But here, it’s not a burden. It’s freedom.”

Angie hesitated, then, shrugging, took off again. Laughter bubbled up uncontrollably as she raced across the field, wind whipping hair into her face. She spit it out with a big grin on her face, and continued her running. She embraced the childlike freedom with glee. The pressures of her daily life melted away as she explored the landscape, discovering fields of flowers that glowed faintly blue in the sunset, a grove of trees with patterns on its leaves like stained glass, and a shimmering clear lake that reflected the lavender sky.

For hours, she ran and explored, her heart soaring with a joy she hadn’t experienced in years. Eventually, the sun set fully, and she returned to the brook, where Elira waited.

“This is amazing,” Angie said, breathless. “I’ve never felt so…alive.”

Elira’s smile was gentle. “And yet, you know this can’t last forever.”

Angie’s smile faltered. “I know,” she said. She looked down at herself introspectively, “But, you know what? This experience has reminded me of something I’d forgotten was necessary in my life.” She looked up at Elira, who was slightly taller than her. “Me time.”

Elira nodded. “Exactly. The Realm of Serenity exists to show people like you what’s possible, and what you’ve forgotten. You’re stronger than you think, Angie. Take this lesson back with you.”

Angie nodded, “I will. Thank you.”

Elira smiled a gentle smile, grey-white eyes crinkling, “You’re welcome, Angie.”

Before Angie could respond, a shimmering portal appeared beside her, and Elira softly guided her through, “It’s time to go,” she said in farewell.

Angie stepped through the portal, startled when she reappeared suddenly in her kitchen seat, exactly where she’d been drinking her tea. Her favorite mug, the one with the lavender background, was still in her hand. She checked her watch and glanced behind her. It seemed time had frozen while she’d been in there, and the portal had already disappeared. 

She looked around, everything was in the same spot, the morning sun reaching through the window behind her loveseat at the same angle, her dress from Spain hung in the same spot precarious as always, and the box of Serenity tea was where she’d left it, and yet, Angie had a feeling that everything had changed. She set her mug down on the counter, her hands trembling slightly. The taste of the tea lingered on her tongue, but the hum of magic in her legs was gone.

She stood, weaving her way to the middle of her cluttered apartment. For the first time, the mess didn’t feel overwhelming. It felt like something she could tackle, one small step at a time. Angie rolled up her sleeves and got to work, clearing the counters, folding blankets, and finding proper places for her keepsakes. By the time she was done, the space seemed lighter, and so did she. She still had lots of work to do, but it was bearable now, possible. Not something to push off until she became “better.” This, this was better. This feeling of accomplishment. I could get used to this, she thought.

She brewed another cup of tea, this time a simple chamomile, and curled up on the now-clean couch with a book. The day stretched out before her, full of possibility.

She took a deep breath, held it for four seconds, and let it out slowly, reminiscing about the unreal day. To think this had all happened because of a simple cup of tea. The world was crazy.

But now, Angie could breathe deeply and center herself within this overwhelming world, as she finally knew how she was going to get her life under control. Through patience, and time off. “Me time,” if you will.

Angie had never felt lighter—brighter days were just ahead, and she could hardly wait.