She comes down the stairs and grabs a cup. She picks up a spoon and starts stirring.
He comes down and opens the package. He adds water and starts stirring.
She glances at him and quickly looks away. He glances back.
She takes sugar, he takes cream.
They sip in silence, glancing at each other from the corners of their eyes.
He finally works up the courage to ask, “What’s your name?”
She smiles and answers. “What’s yours?”
It’s raining outside.

A week later she comes down the stairs to see him standing there.
She stops and wonders whether she should just go upstairs.
He turns and sees her. Too late. She comes down and starts preparing her tea.
“What kind of tea are you drinking?” He asks.
“Green Jasmine. What about you?”
“Earl Grey. Sugar?”
She nods. “Cream?”
He smiles, hesitantly, and reaches out to take it.

Every day at 10:30 he comes down.
She sees him getting his tea ready.
He doesn’t talk to her and looks slightly uncomfortable.
He finishes his cup and finally blurts out:
“Do you want to go on a date?”
He looks down and waits for her rejection.
“Yes.” He looks up and she is blushing.
“I’m free on Friday. Will eight be okay?”
“That’s great.” She hurriedly finishes her tea and runs up the stairs.

She really does like him.
He really does like her.
They go out again. Soon they are together.
She meets his parents.
His mother can’t be happier.
He meets her parents.
Her father regards him with suspicion.


He can tell what mood she’s in by the tea she drinks.
Black- Tired
Green Jasmine- Stressed
Orange Pekoe- Sad or angry
Cranberry- Happy
Today she is drinking something else. He wonders what kind.



She’s drinking cinnamon.
She doesn’t know why but she doesn’t feel like anything else
She thinks she loves him.
There’s a warm feeling inside her.
What else could it be but love?

He loves her.
He takes her to the little teashop they went to on their first date.
He gets down on one knee.
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes.” They kiss.
It is raining outside.

She’s a vision in white.
He’s the happiest man alive.
Their mothers cry.
Their dads pretend not to.
The wedding song plays.
They drink cinnamon tea.

They have their first fight.
It started over something simple, she can’t remember what.
She just remembers the angry words and the slamming doors.
He leaves the house. She is scared.
She wants to make a cup of tea, but she doesn’t know what kind.
She falls onto the couch and cries.

He sneaks back in the house.
He’s sorry and he still loves her.
He goes and wakes her.
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
He offers the package in his hand to her.
It is cinnamon tea.
Just what she wants.
They smile and drink some together.

She lies in a hospital bed, gasping for breath.
He can’t hold back the tears.
He strokes her white hair.
He hears her last words.
“I’ll save some cinnamon tea for you. I finally know why it’s my favorite. It’s the flavor of love, the flavor I think of when I think of you. I love you.”
With that, she slips away.
He cries.
It’s raining outside.
Now every day he takes a walk.
He tells stories to children.
He still loves her with all his heart.
He waits for the day he will see her again.
And every day he drinks cinnamon tea and reflects on his life,
And how it all started with a cup of tea.