Two for tea.

"I feel ill."

I took him by the hand and helped him settle down the cup of tea he had been holding down onto the glass table. I couldn't risk breaking my best fine china, it had been passed down for generations.

I took a napkin from the table and dabbed the protruding droplets of sweat emerging from his forehead. Our eyes met briefly and for a moment I began to suspect that he could see straight through my act of false concern. The fear in his eyes as his eyes darted from side to side trying to comprehend the situation he was in stirred amusement within me. That's how it usually begins... confusion, convulsions and then death if the victim is lucky enough. Occasionally the victims would fight through the agonizing pain, it did nothing but cause more suffering. There were slim chances of survival once it got into your system.

"You must have caught something on your way here." I said nonchalantly, slowly lowering the drenched napkin back down to the table. He parted his thin trembling lips and attempted to respond to me but the sudden illness had rendered him speechless. His head bobbed as he fought to keep upright until he had no fight left in him and gave in. His nails dug into the armrest of the chair as he began shaking, completely losing control of his bodily functions.

The intermittent convulsions caused his slumped body to fall from the chair, hitting his head on the table before hitting the hardwood floor. I crossed my legs over and sat quietly, hoping that the loud thud hadn't alarmed anyone from downstairs. Any witnesses would be an inconvenience to say the least. I lifted my own cup of tea and watched, waiting patiently for his final breath.

[300 words.]