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…
