Teacup 🍵

A shattered teacup. Perfectly sweetened tea with two spoonfuls of honey. Floor. The cold floor.

Sera grimaced.

“That wasn’t necessary,” she said, tempted to cry over spilled tea.

“It was.” Elise grinned sideways. “Come out with us. You’re always inside drinking tea.”

Sera stared at her tea—pieces of her porcelain teacup soaking in lilac liquid.

“No,” she said, reaching for the paper towels.

Elise rolled her eyes. “Are you serious? You act like something interesting will happen to you in this house! What do those books have that we don’t?”

Sera was reminded of all the times Elise pushed when she hadn’t asked. How she’d led her around since college—forced her into makeup, make-outs, and outings. She’d spent her entire senior year so drunk she’d nearly failed.

And now, swiftly approaching her mid-thirties, she couldn’t fathom why.

“Tact,” she said, brushing shards into the dustpan. “They have tact. They let me see the story for myself.”

Elise looked confused and rolled her eyes. “There you go. All dramatic again. Come on. Deal with the cup later.”

Her hands coiled around Sera’s shoulder. Sera jerked away, startling them both.

“I said no. I’ll stay here. I’ll find a replacement for my favorite cup. I’ll read a good book and be in bed by eleven. Twelve if the book speaks to me a little. Not at all if it speaks a lot.”

She stood. Elise’s face went pale—the look of a woman who’d never heard the word no.

“You’re going to die alone! Those people in those books don’t care about you!” Elise snapped.

Sera paused, spun on her heel as the trash can’s lid thunked closed.

“Neither do you. What’s my favorite color, Elise?”

Elise spluttered. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s yellow.”

“No. It’s cobalt blue. Yellow is yours. In fact, I recall you repainting our first dorm after I’d already painted it. You didn’t even ask.”

Elise scoffed. “That god-awful blue shade? I felt like I was underwater! Yellow is prettier. Girlier.”

Sera sighed. All these years—picking different. Making herself small. Partying when she wanted to study. Drinking liquor when she wanted tea. Yellow when she wanted blue.

“How the hell have I put up with you for this long?” she asked, turning to face her. “Get out.”

Elise stared, disbelieving. “What?”

“Get out. You’re not welcome here anymore.”

Elise chuckled, waving her hand in that dismissive way she always did—brushing away Sera’s concerns, desires, opinions. Her.

“You’re a piss-poor excuse for a friend, Elise. You always have been.”

The floor was clean. Elise hadn’t offered to help. Hadn’t lifted a finger.

“Sera—”

“Get out!”

Sera pointed to the door, and Elise scurried toward it.

“I’ll be back tomorrow when you’ve calmed down. We can talk—”

“We don’t talk. You talk. You’ve made every choice in this friendship for ten years. I’m not your servant, Elise. I’m supposed to be your friend.”

Elise’s face reddened as Sera berated her. A twinge of guilt clutched Sera’s chest until she saw a shard of her teacup glinting on the counter.

“You don’t respect me. So you are no longer welcome in my life. Get out. Don’t ever come back.”

Elise opened and closed her mouth like a fish. Sera stood tall—for the first time in ten years. Poised. Prepared for a fight. Fire returning to her eyes.

“Fine. You want to be dramatic about it? Fine. I’ll tell Bridget and Jade you’re out.”

Sera scoffed. Those two clones didn’t have an original thought between them. She was elated to be rid of them, too.

“Tell them quickly. I don’t want any late-night texts.”

Elise rolled her eyes and put her hand on the door. Her fingers lingered, her voice softer.

“We can talk,” she whispered, pleading.

Sera walked toward her and opened the door wide. She pointed outside, jaw set.

“The time for that has passed.”

Elise stepped out slowly, aching. Something clicked into place as the door closed. Even in her anger, Sera didn’t slam it.