HEALING
I'll buy a cheap house somewhere peaceful, work on my novel, and live with cats for the rest of my life.
o1. Meet
Silver kettle lets out white steam and rings loudly as the water inside has reached its boiling point. Bubbling sound can be heard and the unique hot water scent fills the kitchen, slowly making its way to the female dressed in white tee shirt and black, loose pants.
Blonde hair falls to slender shoulders and bangs gently swept her eyes, tickling them for a moment as she stands and hastily makes her way to the kitchen. The baby blue notebook is left open on the table, presenting her calligraphic writing and her black inked ballpoint.
White teapot adorned with flower ornament is the only one of her tea set collection. Along with the white tea cup, she puts them into a silver tea tray. From the shelf on the right side of her, she pulls out a glass container with a label and her curvy handwriting on it. It says Darjeeling.
Right after she places two teaspoons of tea into the pot, she hears a bell chime – her café's door bell. But it confuses her as she has clearly displayed the close sign on the window. In her curiosity, she steps away from the kitchen to the café area.
Her café is a small place, but furnished and decorated beautifully. White, almost transparent curtain drapes across the windows and round, wooden tables are covered with white table cloth. On each table is a small vase with different flower in different colors. Soft blue wallpaper creates a lovely atmosphere for drinking tea, eating cookies, and have a chat with a friend.
But today, the café is empty as she decided two days ago to take an extra day off. The customer (or the guest) must be not a local as she had informed her regular customer.
She tilts her head in confusion. A young man, looking not older than her; younger in fact, stands in front of the café door. She peeks from the window and notices his unusual hair color. She also notices that he is drenched despite the sunny weather. Feeling more concerned than scared, she opens the door. "Please, come in," she says with a smile.
The male meets her with a blank look, quietly blinking before lifting his, she notices, pale hands. There is a scrap of paper in his hold, crumpled as if has been shoved into pocket numerous times but is not wet. He looks like a lost child to her and she knows she cannot leave him on his own. He clearly needs a change of clothes and a warm place to settle for a while.
Thus, she steps to the side as to give him space to enter, but instead, he stands still in front of the doorway. She keeps her confused thought to herself and wait for him to move, but he doesn't and that makes her worried even more.
Maybe he is unwell?
"Come in, please," she wraps her finger around his wrist and pulled him in. He stumbles, wobbling like an elderly man, and it is very easy for her to push him into one of the café seats. Perhaps he really is unwell. Unwell and lost.
She is about to walk to grab towel when her wrist is caught by a cold hand. A shiver runs down her spine and she turns around to meet his eye for the first time. He looks like a daze, in wonder, and she cannot blame the poor boy for it.
But still, it surprises her.
"I fell in love with you." He doesn't seem to be hesitant – he says it as if it was the most normal thing to say to a stranger, as if asking for time or weather to a stranger.
And she doesn't deny it that it surprises her even more.
Her facial expression is frozen; stunned and confusion, but she manages to turn it into a smile, albeit forcibly, to be polite. The male keeps on staring at her, blinking several times before pulling his hand away and put it on his lap. His head inclines downward, then, staring at how his fingers are playing with the hem of his shirt and wondering the next spot the droplets of water from his hair will land.
The coldness of his hand still lingers around her wrist and she fights the urge to brush her wrist just to make sure that his hand has been off her wrist already. "Let's talk over a tea," she says, and feels relieved when she hears her voice doesn't falter, "And a change of clothes. I believe you are not comfortable with soaked clothes."
(-) I seriously don't know when did I write this one but I think it's pretty nice and simple and I haven't post anything for a long time so I decided to.
(-) College life takes its toll on my schedule and I can't promise to update this regularly. I'm just a freshman this year and I haven't really adapted to its system and all.
(-) Thank you for being patient with me, especially since I have yet to continue the other stories.