Rain in may
Copper fills his nostrils as he walks through the old, narrow cobblestone streets. The buildings bring you back to a more elegant time, where architecture looked gothic and detailed, like something from an old Disney film, lost in time but still so well kept in the present day.
The rain begins to darken the stone floor, bouncing off his glasses. Old bicycles line every street. Corner shops are closing early, their shutters rattling quietly in the breeze. A man swishes past on a vintage bike, nearly knocking him over—not uncommon around here.
The sky remains a soft blue, with clouds lingering above. The rain grows heavier. A woman walks by with a brolly, a wool scarf wrapped snugly around her neck, and a steaming takeaway coffee in hand. He walks in the direction she came from, drawn by the warm scent of roasted coffee beans—and the subtle perfume of lavender drifting from a nearby florist.
Next to it stands a cosy corner coffee shop. Its bricks are red, with ivy growing up the wall. A large window looks out onto the street, with some pretty-looking tables and chairs set in front of it.
The rustic, hand-painted sign swings in the light breeze. “Cosy corner coffee shop.”
He taps his boots on the entry mat and shakes off the rain from his umbrella, standing it next to the door.
The bell dings as he enters. It’s surprisingly busy. The smell of freshly baked pastries and coffee beans floats in the air, while string lights cast a cosy, warm glow. Books are scattered on shelves—everything from fantasy novels to exam prep books. There are mismatched tables and chairs, local art on the walls, and a large chalkboard with the menu written in neat, decorative lettering. Someone has also drawn a little pigeon in chalk at the bottom corner.
He makes his way over to the counter. A short girl with purple hair in a purposefully messy bun and big black earrings smiles up at him. Her gothic makeup is beautifully done.
He orders a cappuccino and goes to sit down at the table by the large front window to watch the rain.
He looks around the café at the individuals around him:
A young woman with a sketchpad and gouache with wavey brown hair sat at the table closest to him. She was deep into a sketch with headphones in, in a cute dress.
Across the café,
in a quiet corner, was a tall, skinny ginger man with an iPad. I think he was also sketching. He was intensely furrowing his brow in concentration. A cat was also sat beside him, sprawled out relaxing.
There was a man wearing nerdy glasses, sat by the counter with a laptop out, invested in what looked like maths studies.
He took out his own notepad at the table, scribbling equations and puzzling through his own maths problems. He took off his maroon jacket and placed it behind his chair.
The purple-haired waitress placed his coffee down on the table in front of him with a smile. He nodded and smiled back. A little cookie rested beside the drink. He opened the packaging, and crumbs tumbled onto his jeans; he brushed them away.
An old piano stood against the back wall of the café. A tall man with dark hair sat at it after finishing his coffee and began to play “The Merry-Go-Round of Life” from Spirited Away. The music paired perfectly with the cosy rainfall pattering against the glass and stone outside.
He sipped the hot froth from the top of his drink, which left a white moustache. The girl he had noticed earlier—the one with the sketchbook chuckled to herself.
