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Description
On the street called Oxford, stood a small tea shop, crammed between two modern window strewn buildings towering high into the foggy London sky, each with glamorous boutiques and continually updating clothing stores. But it was not those stores Alice loved; it was that little green painted tea shop that stood out from the refurbished city. She would always walked by it on her way home from her pitiful 9 – 5 work day with a peak in the window, never daring to venture inside. Though today she felt brave, she needed a quick pick me up from her day, plus she was running out of tea at home.

Alice’s petite figure fought to pull open the heavy door, but as she heaved it open, a shower of exotic smells filled her nose. She walked into the shoe box sized store, which was dimly lit, with teas from all over the world lining black shelves from wall to wall. The sight was almost mesmerizingly unreal, like she stepped into another century. Had she fallen down the rabbit hole?

‘Ello,’ the shop keeper said preoccupied with restocking the tower of shelves behind him. Alice wouldn’t have known he was there had he not spoken, she guessed he was used to people being more awestruck with the shop. Something was different about the man; he looked as if someone plucked him from another era and plopped him behind the counter. He had on a green sweater-vest and white button down shirt with tan pressed slacks. His hair was a messy washed out blond that fell over his eyes slightly. When she finally caught a glimpse of his face she noticed his eyebrows were thick and dark, but his eyes were like someone had stuck polished emeralds replacement of his irises. He was odd looking all together be even so there was something about him that made her delicate red frames fog up. Turning with a stubborn stomp, she pursued through the shelves to find here most beloved tea, earl grey.

As she wandered the aisles, there was something satisfying about the feeling of her lavender-painted nails gliding across the boxes of tea, traveling from China, to East London in a few feet. Stopping suddenly, she snatched the first box of Earl Grey off the shelf, like it was the last one in existence. Deciding to make the experience short she strolled over to counter to purchase her lone item.

The blond shop keep turned to face her, uttering the price in a thin accent. It appeared as if he had live in the United States for some time. Alice pulled her wallet from her purse and glanced to a picture resting on the heavily polished counter; a pressed rose by its side. The photograph was of a man with clear blue eyes and golden hair coupled with a flying cowlick and leather bomber jack; his grin shining brightly. On the oak coloured frame was a small gold plaque with ‘In loving memory of Alfred Fredrick Jones July 4th, 1982 – September 11, 2001’ carved in delicate script. Her heart sank.

‘He was my best friend since you seem to be curious,’ the shop keeper remarked opening the cash register. ‘He was in the plane when it went down.’

‘Oh that’s awful,’ Alice said politely, the man’s vibrant expression seemed now a tad less cheery. ‘Were you close?’

‘Closer than brothers,’ the shop keeper smiled at her softly handing her a paper bag containing her purchase. Taking the bag with a blush she hurried from the store, hoping to never push through its doors again.

But after that, like a moth to the light, Alice visited the little shop every week whether she needed tea or not. Her and the shop keep barely spoke. The only words exchanged was the quick obligatory price statement, which Alice had memorized by then; granted she purchased the same item every time. Sometimes she would simply stand among the shelves and breathe. It was an excuse to sneak glances to the other blond and to revel in all the smells and colours. At times she wouldn’t even notice she was looking for the other over the cluttered shelves until he moved a box loudly or did something else to snap her out of her reverie. She would blush and pray that he hadn’t noticed her staring.

Every day she would walk into the shop and every day the shop keep’s eyes would look dull and lacklustre. She took some notice how his eyes grew red the closer it got to September and he seemed to be held together by a thin thread. It wasn’t until September 11th that she saw any other emotion out of the short man other than a straight face stating a price.

She placed her obligatory box of tea on the counter and already shuffled to pull out the determined amount. She looked up and saw tears roll from those green eyes that she wished she could always stare at. Her eyes widened as the keep choked out an apology and tried to see what he was doing. Alice reached forward gently and stopped his hands from doing anything else. That was all it took for him to break down into full on tears.

Alice made her way around the counter and pulled the man into a soft hug, not even caring that she barely knew him. He fell into her embrace and cried his heart out. She whispered peaceful words and rubbed sweeping circles on his back. She did all she could to try and make the other feel better. After he had run out of tears he had sat back apologized in a soft voice and handed her the tea. Only after she left did she realize she never paid for it.

The shop was closed for the next week and when it was finally open again she immediately pushed open the door. She paused in the doorway, not seeing the shop keep anywhere. She approached the counter and saw a lone box of tea with what looked like a white folded note card atop it. Alice glanced around once more then picked up the small package.

To the Girl in the Little Red Frames,
I know this is unorthodox but I’m a little out of date on my social skills. I had to run out on an errand and knew you were stopping by. I was also wanting to use this note as an excuse to ask you something. I decided the day you sat with me that it was time to move on and be happy once more. I was wondering if you would like to grab a cuppa sometime or perhaps dinner?

~Arthur

PS This tea and the last are on me.

Alice smiled and picked up another piece of paper and wrote a quick reply. She smiled as she closed the door and looked back at the note she left, a shy pale pink crept across her nose and ears.

I would love to.

~Alice