Tea's Roam
The tea once upon a time travelled all the way from tropical places where it grew. The tea only grew when it was at the sun, and the damp, sweaty humidity. One day, a person came to the tea leaf and plucked it off. Where would it go?
The caretaker tossed it into the box, and then the crane pulled it into the boat. And the boat sailed to the destination. It spent days, days and days, still in the sack, as it stayed dark, dry and out of pest. Pest that would eat the leaf, and spoil the whole sack.
It arrived at the destination. The other caretaker loaded it off the boat, and into a truck, and the truck drove down the road, through many bump, shaking the leaf like a silent shake, or turning, thus getting squashed by other leaves. Then it stopped, a big building. Through the backdoor, into the waiting room, where the other workers would do something to it.
One day, the leaf sack is pulled out of the waiting room, and it shuttered in the bag, for it was ready to be shredded into chunky flakes.
The leaves spun and thudded into the rotating knives, and they doubled, quadrupled, octupled, all while getting smaller, tinier and minuter.
Broken, a hand grabbed on the flakes and sprinkled them into a smaller net, transparent but cotton threaded, the net closed up, stitched up, labelled ‘tea’ and into a paper sleeve. It moved again, thanks to another truck, to the office. Eager workers took it out and dunked it into hot water.
The leaf bled, all its colours. All its flavour, into the painful water, all while trapped in the net. Minutes later, something pulled the net up and plop. Rotting in the food bin.
Oh, how much the tea leaf travelled, all to become trash.