This story is written as a response to the Muse on Monday writing prompt for July 14, 2025: Write a story about coffee or tea or another hot drink.

Tea Minutes Left

How long did a cup of tea last? Mike had never considered it before. In truth, he almost never remembered the actual drinking of the tea. He would always sip at it while reading or working on the computer and be a little surprised to look down and see it gone. Now, however, it was the most important question in the world.

Five minutes before, he had been making his evening cup of decaffeinated Earl Grey when the front door was smashed in. His mind spontaneously started calculating the replacement cost, especially with wood prices these days. Then a window smashed, and he wrenched his mind away from finances to the fact that masked men were in his house. Official masked men, unfortunately.

“You could have knocked,” Mike said to the leader whose body framed the door of the kitchen. He tried to ignore the adrenaline screaming through even blood vessel. It was always part of the fantasy that if (when) they came like this, he would act almost blasé, as if he was above it all.

The leader shrugged. He didn’t have to say that the destruction was not for Mike: it was for everyone else, to make it obvious to passersby what had happened and where Mike had gone.

“You’re coming with us,” the leader said. “Just for questioning. You were warned to stop organizing seditious groups online.”

“Of course.” They both knew it would be more than questioning, that Mike would not be back, at least for a very long time.

The leader dropped an administrative warrant on the table. “Hey, I don’t want to be here. It’s just orders. You going to come quietly?”

“Sure. Look, I just made a cup of tea. Could I finish it first?”

“Fine. I’ll be in the living room. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Mike bobbed the teabag up and down a few times. He heard booted footsteps upstairs, probably searching for valuables while they were here. Except for that, he could almost imagine, if he closed his eyes, that he was just sitting here at the table, like he did every evening, having his cup of tea. For this moment, isolated like a bubble of time, everything was normal, and he was free.

The question was, how long could he make the cup of tea last?