Dazed & Confused

After returning home from a morning of chaotic market crowds and eccentric vendors, Reuben wasted no time diving into his work. He poured himself a glass of green tea before heading out to his workshop, ready to craft the special infusion his new client had ordered. However, as he entered the room, his eyes were once again drawn to the wooden crate and jar that had been sitting on his desk for days. He sighed, moving the mesmerizing jar of "Visible Imagination" to a smaller side table, hoping it would be less of a distraction. Still, he couldn’t help but glance at it, entranced by the swirling colors within.

Determined to focus, Reuben cleared his main work area and carefully arranged all the ingredients in a wicker basket. He began the familiar process of grinding the dried herbs, meticulously working each one into a fine powder with his mortar and pestle. Yet, as he made the repetitive, circular motions, his thoughts began to drift. Faint, soothing voices seemed to whisper tales in his ear, coaxing his imagination to wander.

He found himself lost in the rhythmic swirling of the herbs inside the mortar, losing track of the task at hand until the pestle slipped from his fingers, clinking against the stone bowl and jolting him out of his daze. He blinked and checked the time — an entire hour had passed, and he hadn’t even realized it. Reuben's gaze shifted accusingly to the jar across the room. Narrowing his eyes, he muttered, “Is that essence really messing with my head?”

It wasn’t the first time he had lost focus since receiving the jar, and he was starting to suspect a connection. Frustrated, he decided to move it even further, placing it on a high shelf across the room. “There,” he said, dusting off his hands, as if ridding himself of the distraction altogether.

Returning to his desk with a renewed sense of determination, Reuben began combining the powdered herbs with water in a small cauldron. He cut an orange into large chunks, tossing them into the mixture, and set about the last task — slicing the mushrooms. But as he reached for a toadstool, his thoughts drifted once again to the jar, its vivid colors tugging at the edges of his consciousness. The rhythm of the knife hitting the cutting board seemed to echo unnervingly in his mind: One slice, two slice, three slice, four…

The slicing gradually slowed to a halt, and minutes passed as he stared off into the distance, frozen in a half-conscious daze. It wasn’t until his hand knocked over the wicker basket, scattering the remaining toadstools onto the floor and into the crate, that he snapped out of his trance.

“Damn it!” he cursed, his voice tinged with irritation. He hastily collected the fallen mushrooms and placed them back in the basket, muttering to himself, “What the hell is wrong with me?” An uneasy tension settled over him as he tried to shake off the lingering fog in his mind. Once again, he had no memory of where his thoughts had wandered.

“Come on, Reuben. Just get this damn infusion finished,” he muttered, letting out a heavy sigh. “Think about the money.”

With renewed focus, he added a few carefully sliced mushrooms to the pot and carried it into the kitchen to boil. Stirring the concoction, he watched as the water turned a murky, reddish-brown. The transformation brought a faint smile to his face — he was almost done.

Finally, Reuben strained the tea into a large flask, admiring the rich color of the finished product. “Perfect,” he murmured, satisfied. But as he glanced at the clock, he realized just how late it had gotten — far past the time he’d planned to finish for the night.

He placed the flask of infusion in the fridge, turned off the lights in his workshop, and headed to bed feeling a rare sense of accomplishment. Little did he know that this simple act of brewing a special tea would mark the beginning of something that would change his life forever.