Puerh Man

 An old lady woke at 2 a.m. and turned over to stretch her aching hip. Some dream about a flooded kitchen and trying to get to the bathroom. The reason for the dream, she had to go, and padded to the toilet, popping a couple bubbles of dinner gas along the way. With business done, the only thing left on her mind is a hot cup of tea. She puts the kettle on.

As she passes by the window on her way to her tea crock, she feels a draft from the back door. She checks the door lock to try and remember if she let the cat back in. She had. Time to chip a chunk off the tea cake and slip it into a tiny teapot. She wonders if the teapot is too big, a thought she has quite often. She drinks less as she gets older, but the tea affects her more. When the kettle steams, she gives the tea two rinses because of the humid storage smell. With the third pour from the kettle, she decides the tea is ready and refills the tea pot and cup to return to her room. Just then she feels a chill.

She sets the tea down next to the bed and pours a cup. One down, then another for the warmth. Lying back onto the pillows, she glances up and sees in the doorway the shape of what must be a man. He is thin with long draping arms like the branches of a tree, and tea leaves for hands. A tall and slender man wears an attractive dark suit. His head is a round tea cake, the ghastly face with a beeng hole in the middle. Oh yes.

I am here, oh western lady, I hear you calling, you need the thrills, the chills, the thumping thumping don’t stop til the sweet sweet drops, yes yes that and more, here, from Asia. Oh yeah I got what you need and then I am gonna kill you.

Please, she says, just a little bit more. Suddenly that hip pops. She must sit up. All is well, she can flip him, her turn now. She knows that deep down he is here just for her and no one else, maybe he is enough to satisfy. His face is a dark well of oily leaves. She tries to sink into it, but she cannot.

His long arms reach up to circle her, like tendrils, and leaves flutter down in a cloud of steam. After this, only darkness.

The next day she stops by the clinic.

“A blood pressure episode,” the doctor pronounces. “You really need to stop drinking all that tea, mark my words it will do bad things to you Wisconsin girls.”

She goes home and finds a tea wrapper on her bed. She sniffs it. Nothing too remarkable, the dream itself was better. She throws the wrapper in the trash.