Sara Bellamy

Tea for Two You are trembling. I always tremble when they fill me. Are you frightened? No. You sound frightened. I am porcelain. I do not become frightened. Oh. Why are you so cheerful? Someone chose me. They always choose one of you. Not me. Not until now. I have waited all afternoon. I noticed. The others disappeared one by one. Yes. Down into the dark. It is not dark for long. What happens to them? They dissolve. Does it hurt? I don't know. You have held hundreds of us. Thousands. And you don't know? They stop speaking quickly. Perhaps that means they are happy. Perhaps. The woman is coming back. I know. She has lovely hands. Do not let her touch you. Why? Something happened while she was gone. Nothing happened. A hand came. I remember. It was not hers. He only touched me. He did more than that. He brushed something against me. Yes. It tasted bitter. I know. Perhaps I am special. Please listen to me. She has picked me up. Fall. What? Fall. She is smiling. Roll beneath the table. But I have been waiting. Please. You said this is what happens. Not like this. She is holding me above you. I cannot stop her. I can see myself in your rim. Do not look. Her husband is watching. I know. He is smiling too. I know. She has dropped me. I am sorry. Oh. Do not dissolve. I can't help it. Please. You are warm. Please. I think I understand now. The spoon begins to turn. Silver circles porcelain. Once. Twice. Three times. Across the table the husband watches his wife raise the poisoned tea to her lips. And neither the cup nor the last grain of sugar can scream.