She didn’t want to come in for a cuppa with her new landlord, but to say no would have been impolite.

‘How do you take it?’

‘Two drops of milk, half a teaspoon of sugar, please.’

‘How very particular,’ he said. ‘Never heard that before.’

‘Do you make lots of tea, then?’

She should have declined, in a polite fashion. He appeared nice enough, but something about him scared her.

‘You could say that.’

He handed her a cup.

‘Hope it meets your standards.’

She nodded, even though it tasted funny.

Poison, she realised as she tumbled off her chair.

***

Story 12 of 31 for Story A Day May – this is what happens when I listen to Nick Cave’s Murder Ballads while writing…