The Battered Teacup

On flicks the kettle, the bright orange light illuminates the gloom in the dark kitchen, its been a long day and he sighs wearily as he reaches for a mug and plonks it noisily onto the kitchen worktop.

He reaches into the old tea caddy pulls out the small square teabag, he fingers the grainy bag and checks it for holes and throws it clumsily into the old battered teacup. He glances at the cup in surprise. He hasn’t seen this cup in years and is immediately drawn back to that cold winters night in 1979.

Elaine holding the shiny new cup to her lips and blowing softly as she shivers with the cold, her eyes meeting his as she takes a sip…

The hint of a smile plays on his lips as the kettle continues to heat noisily and he dumps two spoonful’s of sugar into the cup. His eyes twinkle slightly as he recalls the electricity in the room as they edge closer together…

The bright light from the fridge as he reaches for the small carton of milk takes him back to the open fire and the light of the flames dancing against Elaine’s cool flushed cheek as he leans forward for a kiss…

The steam from the boiling kettle warms his skin as he pours the water into the battered teacup, coaxing him back to memory of the heat of their bodies as they made love against the fire, becoming increasing frantic as they began to reach that sweet surrender that they found in each other’s arms that cold winters night.

He adds the milk and stirs the teabag, dreaming fondling of lying wrapped up together in his old tatty blanket and spending the night talking about the future. Elaine wanted a career in Law and was studying for her degree. He was a builder but wanted to be a writer. Dawn came far too soon that night…

Smiling broadly now, he passes the battered teacup to his darling Elaine. He kisses her lightly on the forehead and strokes her hair gently. She smiles her gratitude wearily as she caresses his arm. She was still here, his beautiful Elaine 35 years later and still using that battered old teacup.