Sometimes all I get is a germ of an idea. It comes from a snippet of conversation I overhear or an incident that I happen to observe. I try to build a scene around it, try to make it into a story. This particular scene evolved from a conversation in a Starbucks about tea vs. coffee. I was initially going to make it into a quiet romantic scene with some witty banter between two people. But as you can see, it turned into something else entirely.
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“Care for some tea?” she asked, putting a kettle on the burner. He sat down, wondering how to best put his feelings on the subject. “No thanks. I don’t believe in tea. It doesn’t have the jolt that coffee gives me. Especially in the morning. I don’t know how you stand the stuff.” He waited for her reaction.
She didn’t skip a beat, focused as she was on scooping out some loose tea leaves into two mesh filters. They sat on top of ceramic tea mugs. Green, of course. “Well,” she said, tapping the dried leaves off the scooper, “you know tea does have caffeine. Its just released a lot more slowly than with coffee.” She put the tea bag away. “You get the energy over time,” she said, glancing at him, “instead of as one big slap to the head.”
He chuckled at that. “Okay, I’ll take a cup of slowly released caffeine. Just don’t slap me, please.” He looked at her, back turned towards him, reaching for the sugar. Still couldn’t believe she was an Agent. The loose fitting jeans and tie-dyed shirt made her look like she was still in college. Combine that with her close cut bangs, hair parted to the right, and she reminded him of someone he used to date back when he was a freshman.
She walked back to the table, placed the cups and sugar packets between them. “So tell me again about the victim.” He took a sugar packet and shook it as he recounted the incident. “He was a priest at St. Anthony’s church. Been there three years. Found inside the confession booth stabbed to death with a wooden stake. It was plunged in his chest all the way up to the hilt.” He got a raised eyebrow out of her with that.
“Any history of prior crimes? Any threats involved?”
He put the packet down, leaned back in his chair. “No. A clean record as far as we can tell. He was well liked by the community. Everyone seemed to have liked him. The other priests and church volunteers don’t recall any threatening phone calls either.”
“Did it look like his eyes were rolled up in his head?” His eyes narrowed. “How the hell? Who told you that?”
“I was just asking. You know I don’t come here for the mundane crimes.” She leaned forward, head resting on her hands, trying to look meek. It didn’t work. He was on the defensive now, wondering if he should just leave. “Listen.” she said, reading the worry on his face,”I just want you to tell me the facts. I’ll do the rest myself. Promise.” She smiled. “You won’t even know I’m there.”
The kettle started whistling, signaling that the water was just about to boil. “But first, why don’t we have some tea?”