T(ea) is for Temper

I feel hot. Politics, war, lies, those selling themselves to gain some kind of fake power.

The fire heats up. Leaders sit in comfort carelessly sacrificing their charges for their own gain of wealth or status. Sickness purging through the country because those in power don’t care about anyone or anything but themselves and their money. Change is impossible because of billionaires’ greed.

I can scarcely contain the heat as it begins to boil. When it begins to squeal, I take a deep breath but oxygen only adds fuel to the flame. When will it end? When will we care about each other? Have we really ever?

As the thoughts swirled and burned, finally the whistle screamed and I slammed my fist into the table next to me. I looked at my hand, scraped knuckles already beginning to bleed. It’s not enough. It will never be enough. I punched again and again, three or four more times. I let out a wail thick with anguish.

The news shows the worst of the world. A wanna-be dictator. Families are being separated ruthlessly, and no one seems to care. Countries at war, whole cities in ashes. Another Holocaust on the horizon. And there were personal things, too. A relationship falling apart with a slow-burn. Pretending everything is fine, when it was clear things were not, in fact, fine. These were supposed to be the best years of my life. My roaring 20s. Instead, I have this roaring rage inside that I struggle with alone. I know inside I have people who care, but I can’t bring myself to burn them with these feelings. How could they help, anyway? My problem isn’t with them, and they can’t fix the world.

“What’s the matter?” My partner burst into the room, bewildered. How do I even explain? What IS the matter? Why is everything too much right now?

I had no response. I cleaned and wrapped my bloody knuckles and stormed out the door, slamming it on my way. Not even the freezing cold of winter cools the burning. I stepped into my Jeep, kicking snow off my shoes as I did so. I turned on the engine, and the local rock station began blaring. I don’t know where I’m going, but I have to get out. After a few miles, I found myself downtown going to a cafe I heard little about and had never visited. I parked and walked up to the door. It was a little cat cafe. “Purrfect Cup,” read the letters over the entrance. I chuckled dryly. As I opened the door and stepped into the room a little bell tinkled, announcing my presence. One of the cats, a pretty calico, greeted me with a mew. Even with the state of my mind, I couldn't help but bend down to pet her, enjoying the warmth slowly returning to my body from outside inward.

“Welcome! Be with you in a moment!” A young woman's voice called cheerily from a back room. I stepped further into the room and pulled a chair out from one of the tables. Another cat, an old looking black one, came up to my chair and stretched up the leg, clawing at the seat. I rubbed his head and scratched his ears, feeling slightly even warmer. He jumped onto the table and raised his back to be petted. I obliged, rubbing vigorously.

“Ah, a human! And I see you've met Bingo!” The lady, a lovely looking Tabaxi, entered with a notepad. “He's a real character, as you might see if you visit long enough. You should see him with one of the string toys! He goes crazy!” She laughed. “Anyway,” she sighed happily, “I'm Silver Whisker. Would you like to order anything?”

“Ah, well–” I hesitated and rubbed my neck. “Uh, what would you recommend? I'll try anything once.”

Silver giggled. “Well, you can never go wrong with a delicious tea! We have several syrups to choose from, from fruit to honey.” She put her hand to her chest. “I'm partial to the raspberry lemonade flavors myself.”

“I'll take that, thanks.” As I spoke, Silver marked her notepad with a smile. Such a natural people-person. I stood up to investigate a cat tower in front of the window. Two more kitties sniffed my hand as I held it up for them. A little orange kitten and a tabby. “Do you have orange-cat-syndrome, little guy?” I asked the ginger. He just stared at me with big golden eyes. I lifted my hand to pet him, and as he leaned into my hand he tumbled off the tower shelf. There's my answer. Cats aren’t my most favorite, but there was something different about this little guy.

“One raspberry lemonade tea!” Silver walked back to the table tail swishing, and I joined her to collect my drink. She saw me bend over to pick up the kitten. “That little goofball is called Frankie,” she explained, “and that tabby is Kiplo. Take your time, just come to the counter when you're finished.”

“Yeah, thanks.” I took a sip. “Wow! That tastes great!”

“Thanks, I’m so glad you like it!” Silver exclaimed, looking over her shoulder and her ears perking up as she withdrew to the backroom.

Nearly forgetting about my broodiness, I continued sipping as I traveled the room, watching the cats. When I finished, I threw out the cup and went up to the counter like Silver instructed. She was still working in the back, so I tapped on the service bell twice to get her attention. “Coming!” She called in a sing-song voice.

“That mixture was magical!” I said excitedly. “You have no idea how great you’ve made my day. Now how much for the drink?”

“First-time customers get their first drink for free! Although,” Silver conspicuously glanced at a tip jar and whistled, pushing it toward me.

“You’ve got it.” I tossed a couple dollar bills into the opening.

As I exited the tea shop, only my wrapped hand reminded me of earlier that day.