Storm in a Tea Cup

This was an encounter so unexpected in his day. Like the long, slow slithering along the dirt track, or the cry of hunger that would not go away, his hunched shoulders carried the rumbling ache of an empty belly and its need to be filled. Moving into position it was his eyes that pierced the prize which lay ahead. It held him still. Aware of what was brewing behind her, Felice focused only on the tea, confident she could soothe and remove the grey storm inside that cup; the image of its razor sharp teeth. After all, she'd drank from the bitterness of such a cup once before.