Chamomile Tea

"I'd like some chamomile tea, please."

"Our specialty."

"It's the only thing on the menu."

"True, but we have many options. There's Roman chamomile, English chamomile, garden chamomile, ground apple chamomile, low chamomile, mother's daisy, whig plant--"

"Just the standard chamomile will be fine."

"Please let me finish. We also have low chamomile, anthémis odorante, anthemis nobilis, chamomile d’Anjou, chamomile noble, chamomile romaine, fleur de chamomile romaine, flores anthemidis, garden chamomile--"

"You already said that one."

"Yes, but most people don't pay attention, so they never notice."

"How much for a cup?"

"Ten dollars. Hold on, where are you going?"

Chamomile Tea

It was once a daily ritual I looked forward to.

Like a Pavlovian dog, the chamomile scent from the kitchen always induced a sense of relaxation, no matter how stressful the day had been. Sitting in my Hepplewhite armchair, my clothes still covered in dust and blood, it took only a few sips for my heart to stop racing and my mind to be wiped clean of the raging torrent of anxieties and self-recrimations that normally plagued me.

Now it was the most agitated moment of my routine, wondering if today was the day she had decided to poison me.