After the funeral she went into her grandmotherās cabinet. Old wood and a smell of her usual perfume. Perusing through its contents revealed quirks that nobody knew grannie had. A collection of buttons, black and white photos of random objects left in the street and a little black box.
The box was unlocked, as it was her grandmotherās habit to leave things be--arguing thatĀ āthe best kept secret is the one thatās not a secret.ā And there it was, a tiny little tea-bag with the wordsĀ āTime-Travel Tea.ā
It mustāve been at least a couple of decades old, no, perhaps more. And it seems the contents of the teabag were being painstakingly rationed.Ā
Perhaps it was the grief but Alice took out a mug and was read to boil a way towards discovery. Perhaps, if this worked--whateverĀ āthisā was. Perhaps she could get everything back. Perhaps she could save everyone she ever lost.
To honor the deceased, she took out only a couple of leaves from the bags contents. They danced in the light, iridescent and almost translucent. And an oddly penetrating smell. It wasnāt a bad smell it was just a smell that doesnāt let you forget.
Dropping the leaves onto the boiling water, they evaporated with an almost melodic sound. Like plucking a chord from a just-tuned violin. And she heard it. Her grandmotherās voice echoing from within. This was it!
After taking a sip. Then two. Then three. She kept hearing her voice. But her world didnāt change. The room didnāt change. Everything was the same.
Oh but it wasnāt. She could smell, hear, and feel the touch of her grandmother. Itās almost as if someone was playing back a memory in her head but there was no image. No visuals. Just smells, touches, sounds. She couldnāt help but burst into tears, realizing that as magical as this elixir was, it still didnāt bring her grandmother back.
āI love you Grannieā she whispered onto the iridescent depths of the mug.