Susan walked quickly down the sidewalk. The rain was picking up. Her destination, a small brown cafe awning, was only about 100 meters ahead of her.
She wasn’t the type of person to wince when the first few drops started. She loved this weather, dark and mysterious. She slowed her pace.
“Well, I’m already wet,” she mused.
It was early enough that the street lights were still on and there was no one else around. Sauntering now, she took in as much as she could of the facades of the buildings. She had lived here for only a few weeks and hadn’t had time to notice the quaintness of her new town. It was adorable.
Most buildings were darkened and quiet but a bakery was at full speed. Lights on and people clad in white whipped around behind a tall counter. It was a humorous site.
She turned her attention to the cafe which she had discovered on her first day. She was so relieved to find good coffee so close to her flat.
The cafe was a dimly lit little storefront with two small tables and chairs under a petite cover. Nestled between a bank and a post office it would be easy to miss if not for the aroma of coffee emanating from it.
If possible, the dark morning became darker and the sprinkle turned into a shower. She sped her saunter but not too much; there was no way to avoid being soaked.
She reached the end of the sidewalk at the corner of an intersection, the cafe beckoning from across the street. The do not walk sign was lit. She laughed. Water was now swelling at the street drains and flowing heavily along the curb and the rain had moved into torrential territory. She was completely saturated. The sign shifted to the image of a walking man. She did not move.
“Are you going to cross?” said a calm resonant voice from behind. It startled her but it wasn’t scary. Just one of those moments when you think you are alone but are not. She turned toward the voice.
A man stood almost next to her. Equally as soaked. He grinned politely.
“Are you?” she grinned back.
Now with an apparent French accent, “I am a gentleman, Mademoiselle, I always put ladies first.”
“Are you French now?” she chided.
“No, I’m sorry, I thought it would be romantic, heavy rain, dim lighting, a cafe.” the man shrugged. “I’m Tom.” He extended his hand.
Taking his hand and returning an equally bad French accent,”Hello Tom, I am Susan.” followed by a very small curtsy.
The two stood still for a moment, still holding hands.
“Well, Mademoiselle Susan, may I buy you a coffee?” He gestured to the cafe.
“Oui, Tom. Oui.”
Thank you for reading.