The Tea Was Still Warm

The Cup Beside the Fire

The tea was still warm when I found it.

It sat on a flat stone beside the ashes of my fire, in a white enamel cup with a blue rim. A brown stain marked the place where someone had drunk from it. The tea had gone cloudy with milk, and a drowned moth floated near the bottom.

I owned no enamel cup.

For several seconds, I simply stood there, holding my boots in one hand and staring at it. The woods were pale with early light. Drops of water hung from the pine needles. Somewhere beyond the trees, a wood pigeon repeated its low, lonely call.

Nothing moved around my camp.

My tent was closed. My rucksack rested against a stump where I had left it. The small cooking pot hung from a branch to dry. There were no footprints that I could see, but the earth was thick with pine needles and last year’s leaves. A person could have walked through without leaving much behind.

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This story runs 1 chapter — most readers finish in one sitting, and you can stop and return to any chapter using the contents list.

Who wrote it?

Nimra Khan — original fiction published on RapidTale.