This is part of a collection of yet to be publish short stories called Dusty Sheep and Black Dresses that I work on from time to time. This is from the story of Father Jacob who I love as a character, but I haven’t really managed to find his place in the over story. He may get scrubbed from this and end up in something else.
He opened a small, dark box of tropical wood, lined with antique ivory. The vivid green of the powder inside seemed almost unnatural compared to the dusty yellow hue that permeated everything in this land.
He put a single scoop of the powder into the small pot.
He waited another minute for the water to cool to the right temperature.
He poured the water into the pot. He waited again marking the time by the stuttering tick of the yellowed plastic clock on the wall.