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Rain fell in delicate sheets over the congested outer streets of metropolitan Brisbane city. Innocent - as if it were the first rain of the year that bought about days upon days of stifling humidity, and although people treated it as thus, it was the norm for the sub-tropic climate of moody Queensland.

The rain was to be befriended, as it was pointless to hate such a constant presence. It called upon Brisbane city around 2pm most days, just in time to ruin the joy of unsuspecting school children, caught without an umbrella on their way home.

Normally, the innocent rain went mostly unnoticed, as the air stayed warm and welcoming, so to get wet would be a welcome relief to the normal suffocating humidity.

However, there was a change about, a colder air blew through the city today. Winter wasn’t far away, and the rain was losing its innocence.

The delicate sheets turned into deathly drops, falling hard and fast from the heavens above.

 

Pedestrians drew their coats about them and held their belongings close as they pushed through the pain and monotony of being alive, and hustled towards their temporary destinations.

A lone figure walked across the car filled road, seemingly oblivious to the chaos the harsh rain was causing.

Hands deep in the pockets of his heavy black coat; a cream hand knitted scarf hung loosely from his neck " more of a fashion statement than a protectant from the cold.

Black pants made of comfortable denim clad his legs as if his own skin. The sound of his black velvet boots on the tormented bitumen had heads turning " for someone who looked lost, he surely walked with purpose.

Down a bland street he walked, shop fronts turning to houses and little corner stores in just under a block from the city streets.

The rain eased to a drizzle as the confident footsteps slowed to a stop.

A small cluster of charming old buildings jutted out from suburbia on the corner of a busy road, a single red door stood open, letting the sweet sound of laughter waft out into the dismal day.

To any passer by, it would seem like time stopped beyond the red door " where life was easy and the air was once again warm.

The smell of chai drew the young man forward; he stepped tentatively over the welcome doormat, pulling his hand out of his pocket to briskly sweep his hair from his eyes. A nervous habit more than anything, plus the rain was causing his normally tamed curls to develop a mind of their own.

He quickly glanced back out to the street, almost expecting to see someone standing suspiciously against an adjacent telephone pole. Much to his relief, he had entered the building unnoticed.

 

He closed the door firmly behind him, absorbing the atmosphere infused with the smell of chai and rich coffee beans.

He stood atop a whole of two little steps at the front of a large, low ceilinged room bursting with warmth and character.

Chairs and mismatched tables sat in no visible formation, completely overflowing with customers, their babble surprisingly not overwhelming for such a large crowd.

The floor and the walls were made of old red bricks, and an array of lights hung from the ceiling.

Old portraits lined the entire room, reminding the young man of his old family home. Such clutter would normally annoy him, but this was perfectly balanced to create a unique ambience.

 

No one looked up as he entered the throng of coffee drinkers. Folk-like music blared from a gramophone in the corner, hundreds of old (and new) vinyl stacked along the wall, currently being shuffled through by a 5 year old girl, intent on studying the pretty covers.

The whir of milk in a cold metal jug sounded from the far side of the room where the counter stood, a wide array of cakes and gourmet food stacked upon it as if a bake sale was taking place.

The lighting was dim and the heating was set to perfect.

His hardened green eyes began to soften.

He removed his jacket and stepped through a beaded curtain, parting it carefully with his hands. He knew all too well the risks of walking head first through such a doorway after being stuck in one as a small child, and not particularly wishing for his hair to be torn from his head in front of such a jovial crowd.

The next room was longer, cooler and quieter. Down lights lit up secluded leather booths, the occupants wordlessly playing jenga, reading books and staring lovingly into one another’s eyes.

Books lined the walls further down the narrow room, people spoke in whispers and the music changed to 20’s swing, dulling out the noise from the first room.

One spare table sat at the very end of the room in front of the large, mostly unoccupied courtyard.

The young man took a seat, opting for the courtyard view, as opposed to the more popular book and people watching view chosen by every other single party that chose this hideaway on such a dismal day.

Little drops of water fell from glowing fairy lights that were strung up around the courtyard, one falling on a dozing cat, which immediately sprung up and ran away from sight.

He watched on with amusement, quietly taking in his current place in the world.

The woman, who sat opposite the young man, had previously watched him enter the room with eager eyes. She could no longer hide the fact that she was blatantly staring at him; lips slightly parted and eyes glazing over.

He looked over to her table and made eye contact " which is considered the polite thing to do if someone looks your way " smiled and nodded his head. She snapped from her daze and inhaled sharply, looking away, embarrassed.

He slumped down in his seat, removing his wallet and phone from his pants’ pocket with practiced ease.

A slight movement from the courtyard caught his eye.

No, it wasn’t the cat slinking back to its spot " much to his quiet displeasure.

A young woman sat directly in front of him on the furthermost side of the courtyard, keeping dry under a lantern lit arbor.

Short, vibrant copper hair framed her round face as she sipped from her mug of coffee and murmured to herself.

The young man smiled to himself as he continued to watch her, something about her already felt familiar. He couldn’t help but, once again, think of home.

His phone buzzed on the wooden table top, a message flashing on the screen.

 

Where are you? It said.

 

He swiped his finger across the screen, opening up the message to reply.

 

I don’t know. He sent.

 

But I like it.

 

He looked back towards the copper haired girl who was now intensely scrawling something down and sighed a pleasant, happy sigh of relief.