Photo by Joanna Kosinska on Unsplash
The cafe declares they use brown sugar, nothing polished or artificial.
I tell the owner their tea tastes like it’s swimming in molasses, that the unrefined emanation makes me gag and hand the cup back to him.
My mother wouldn’t use white sugar because of which her Sunday desserts emerged brown, muddy embarrassments like her too-long skirt, her grammar-defying speech and her thick-soled boots.
I remember her too-sweet, earthy breath, how it brushed my cheek before her molasses-flavored kiss landed.
I turn around too late. The owner’s pouring my beverage into the sink.
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Sudha Balagopal’s writing appears in CRAFT, Split Lip, and Smokelong Quarterly among other journals. Her full-length flash collection is forthcoming from Alternating Current Press in 2024. Find her on Twitter @authorsudha or www.sudhabalagopal.com.
