1Authors notes:

Just an excited THANKS to all my readers! This has been great fun to write and I appreciate it.

By the way, I changed the name of the mysterious jade eyed ginger kitty in the story, because I felt his new name suited the atmosphere of Artist Alley, and the thought makes me giggle. Although the real kitty he was modelled after, was named Buttered Stuff. I miss him. When I volunteered at the SPCA, the kitty would always purr quietly for his size, and lean so much into my hand he would sometimes roll onto his side. He was so kawaii.. anyway I'm rambling XD Um Im not sure this is where I want the chapter to end at the bottom of this but.. I don't want to have too much stuff happening at once and I work tomorrow so I'm anxious to post something. XD Anyway the chapter after this one I hope wont be too short. Ill probably write down all the stuff I want to make sure happens, since this snowballed so much I'm forgetting my original main objective!

I was listening to Michelle branch's C.D "Hotel Paper" and the song "Where are you now?" Is sooo fitting for this story o0 and I've never even heard it before now! So kewl, make sure to look it up! (they wont let me post the link for some reason..)

Taste

The small encounters with the 'latte woman' (which was the nickname she gave the mysterious woman) were like gifts to Michiru. They were like a sunny day after weeks of a rainy spell. It made the humdrum of the workday seem much lighter and worthwhile, and Michiru always felt like she were walking on clouds. This feeling was so surprising, to come on so suddenly. Perhaps it was her appreciation for art and beauty, she tried to reason.

The latte woman didn't really have a real pattern of regularity, but enough of one to keep Michiru wondering everyday if she would ever see her again. It had been weeks with no sign of those intriguing, potentially flirtatious, jade eyes. She thought perhaps in frustration, that the latte woman had not come back again because of the reason that in some way or another Michiru always managed to screw up her order. That her nervousness in her presence wasn't because she was attracted, but general clumsiness that was unusual for Michiru. When she thought of these new feelings it could closely be described as standing barefoot in a warm spring thunderstorm, the wind tossing your hair and making your breath catch from the excited sweetly scented gusts. Sometimes shed stumble forward by the wind and dance, light as feathers, butterflies flickering in her stomach. And at night, this feeling was like a burning fire deep in her body, keeping her awake and longing, breathless.

Work was like usual, a bit more crowded with strange people as the City uptown was hosting a spring festival, and its approaching date was beginning to have negative effects for Artists Alley.

Michiru had a hard enough time trying to keep up with the regulars and appease the new comers, who were some the rude city people she was thankful for not having at Café Luna before. She wasn't sure how this town would(could!) handle all the new people, it such a small place at once. There were rumours of protests against the festival by some of the local art majors, and environmentalists. Michiru herself ripped off a slip of paper containing the number of the organiser of one of the latest, although she wasn't sure yet if she would really participate or not. Some of the regulars would sit in the café as usual and simply watch the new'ns. At first it was in amusement, and then gradually it became a bit worried or angry, as they would have trespassers, tourists disrupting the quiet atmosphere and sleepy days. Michiru wondered just how publicised the festival was this year and if the new cars and buses would ever stop. She told herself it would blow over and return to normal soon, she hoped anyway, she didn't care for city people and liked the quiet town as it was.

More people got in line as Michiru pushed herself off the counter, preparing to take another order. Today was one of those days that she longed for another job. One of the girls called out again for the second time that week and she hoped someone would come in and relieve her soon. It was starting to get ugly out in the parking lot as people crowded around. The café was one of the only coffee shops in town, after all. Unless one wanted to travel down route forty-three just to get coffee.

Breathless and tired she asked the next in line, "Hi, what can I get for you today?" Unoriginal, but successful all the same. The man in line looked almost dodgy in appearance, clad in a plain T-shirt, faded oil speckled jeans, and a jacket with its collar pulled up to keep from the threat of a cold spring rain. A baseball- no a cap sporting a FI team- covered their hair and shadowed their eyes. Bristly, they glanced up, wallet in hand. "Vanilla Latte."

Michiru blinked, it only took an instant of self doubt after glancing out of the corner of her eye, that she recognised the person as her 'Latte woman.' Her appearance was such a shock from the tie and suit just weeks before. Her hands habitually wrote their order on the cup, as her mind flew with questions and her cheeks burned. She waited making sure she heard her right but asked anyway, "Just one, today?" Michiru tried to swallow old hopes which rose her pulse; The ring was gone. The woman nodded briskly and once again threw down her money but this time she walked off past the counter and stood against the wall, arms crossed. She seemed oblivious to everyone around her, not to mention the Barista, whose eyes followed her as much as possible without staring.

Michiru temporally ignored and accepted the fact that she didn't want her change or receipt, but the woman's body language was completely different then before. She tried to ignore the curious worry building within her, and begun the order. However, in her distraction, she let the milk bubble over in the pitcher. Muttering, she tapped at the auto button again as it clicked off and began mopping up the milk with the rag. She still watched the older woman out of the corner of her eyes; Her conclusion was depression. But why?

Finally she capped off the drink, and was about to put the lid on when she heard that same deep tenor voice in her direction suddenly from the other side of the counter. "Please, no foam." Michiru felt as though the room was 180 degrees and scooped off the foam, damming herself all the while.

"Of course, here you are." she handed it out and once again tried her best smile. But it wasn't as winning this time, knowing not only that she had screwed up but feeling specially bad since the latte woman was going through what Michiru had been feeling for the past two weeks as well.

Distantly Michiru noted the song playing in the café, and the words made her eyes sting.

'Where are you now?
I'm trying to get by with never knowing at all
What is the chance of finding you out there?
Do I have to wait forever?'

Michiru almost cried out after her in frustration.

Haruka took her drink without looking at the Barista or anyone, walking off briskly through the semi-crowded café without another word and a slight scowl on her face. Even if she had been feeling social, the café was becoming uncomfortably crowded by rubber-necker's and tourists.

"Great, they'll rape this town bare too." She muttered as a group of business people charged in past her, some giving her odd looks. But if it was about her clothes or her comment she didn't know or care. This place was her refuge from the city, and now it too would be taken from her. The usual tinkling sound as one exited was over run by the sound of the wind and light rain.

The memories of Artist Alley were almost too much for Haruka, as she had spent some of these with Morgan when they first dated. Morgan always acted strangely when she was there, curious about the town but cool almost bitterly detached. As if haunted by something from her past still in this town. She had once expressed more or less to Haruka that before her parents got married in the late fifties, her mother had an affair with a musician who had lived in Artist's Alley, before returning to the city to marry; A pianist.

Perhaps this bitterness left from the affair and betrayal on her father, their eventual separation, and this place, left Morgan in the disposition she was in. Perhaps it also explained her coolness toward Haruka's music and her own sexual confusion. After all Morgan had at first met her under the assumption that Haruka was male, although so did everyone. By the second date Haruka came out and told her, and Morgan just had this odd expression on her face, and then smiled and said it didn't matter. But she was always so bitter at her mother for not loving her father enough to be with him first.

But then what did Haruka know? It had happened way back in the late nineteen fifties, who really knew their sexuality back then anyway? Or more like, who dared to know.

Sure, Haruka knew she was better off, but it still didn't take off the edging sting of loneliness. While she was out on this drive to clear her head, Haruka realised she couldn't bare her spacious apartment lately. Along the long stretch of road, away from the city, she decided when she arrived in Artist Alley to stay in the area for a week or so. Checking her map she realised she could use a pit stop, as the seaside hotel she had booked was only about thirty miles away. A vacation, she hoped, would do her good. She couldn't race in this condition, being so distracted and in a profession like that, distraction meant fatal. She couldn't afford a mistake.

Her car had slowed and parked out side of Café Luna. There were more cars and people then she had ever seen at the café. It was almost unnerving enough to make her think twice about her reservation. Thunder boomed in the distance, threatening. Lightening wasn't long after, and streaked the sky. Haruka toyed with the idea of going in or not as she idled the engine, watching the café like an observer. Finally she decided to go in. The rain was just starting to patter the earthen streets. Tourists ran for cover while locals snickered watching from their dry positions, knowing by instinct when the rain came and standing in all the places years of living there taught was dry.

Haruka pushed the door open, which seemed so much heavier then last time. Confronted by smells of spices, baked scones, and coffee it helped lighten her spirit enough not to scowl at the employee behind the counter. She was aware enough to be surprised by the line of people this time of day, and in such poor weather. Although coffee people were weird like that. They trouped out of their warm apartments and homes for coffee even in snow storms. At least thats how it was in the city.

It didn't take long for Haruka to spot the teal beauty-not that she was looking or anything- before she had seen her. The young girl was staring out the window at the rain like it was bad news, a bad omen. Almost like the rain had caused her pain. As if she were missing something, wanting something denied from her, and the rain wouldn't tell her where it was.

Yet still by her strong features, she carried herself with some hope.

Haruka knew the feelings exactly, what that rain meant, what (she squinted at the name tag) Kaiou-san was feeling. Oh hell, what did Haruka know? She swore at herself for acting like a therapist again, when she herself couldn't even explain her own emotions or quirks.

Enough was enough, like a switch, Haruka turned on her persona enough to get the lovely head to turn her way, at last. And somehow without knowing it, Kaiou-san had recognised the pain in Haruka, who in turn didn't let her get close enough to find out anymore. When she had asked if Haruka wanted two drinks, it took a moment of understanding that it was only because of Harukas usual order, and not some cruel joke on her behalf, for her being single now. Her own considering ability of dishing out damnation to a girl who did nothing to her except mess up a few lattes, scared her. So she paid and stalked off to avoid saying something she would regret later.

It wasn't fair to blame Kaiou-san, she was just doing her job, she didn't know. It didn't even unsettle Haruka, that she was so intent to watch her, really. Something about her stuck with Haruka too, but she couldn't allow herself to feel anything right now, still nursing her wounds. Yeah, maybe she was being too sensitive about it, but Haruka had always been so unwilling to trust to begin with. And all of this she was going through just made the blow that much worse.

This time though, Haruka was ready to counteract her luck, and watched the girl make her drink, to catch any errors. In some weird way she almost thought Kaiou-san's nervousness was cute. Obviously she flustered the girl. She enjoyed feeling at least somewhat alive in that respect.

Haruka felt the dark teal eyes bore into her all the way out to her car which was being pelted by

-she supposed- necessary, cold spring rain. Perhaps nature's cruelty and human cruelty was just a way for life to make way for the changing seasons, or emotions. To kill the old and make way for new. Spring was just making headway for the return for summer.

'Now, I guess I'm a poet.' Haruka allowed herself a chuckle, before sobering again and sipping her latte. "Non-fat." She muttered, and laughed for a long time in the comfort of her car, tears rolling down her cheeks. It's possible for someone to laugh and cry at once. Cry in remorse, bitterness or sadness, then laugh at their self for it. Finally she switched on the car before pouring her latte out the window. She watched through the cracked window as it collected and slid away from her, pushed and thinned from the sheets of rain. Rain drops collected and ran down her temple and cheek. Her eyes unfocused as a self realisation, suppressed from her relationship, bubbled up again. Human nature was a lot like that in relationships, hiding whatever pieces don't fit from each other, in return for love.

Haruka remembered it was Morgan who liked coffee, as she was a tea drinker by heart.

Pulling out, she now held this tiny scrap of self against her like a shield against the pelting rain, and felt a bit more lightened by it. Shed use this weekend as therapy, she told herself, making her way through the back streets of Artists Alley. One of the things she liked about driving in this town was how empty the streets were, she felt like she could go on for miles and miles.

Her eyes softened as she listened to some of the lyrics from the current song playing on the radio and let her mind wander back to the Café.

'Maybe I'd do better on my own
No one ever seems to understand me
It's easier for me to be alone
There's still a piece of me that feels so empty
I've been all over the world
I've seen a million different places
Back through the crowds and all the faces
I'm still out there looking for you'

Something had to have been wrong. The first few times when coming into the café, her 'Latte Woman' was charming, social, and without a care in the world it seemed. Today, back from seemingly dropping off the face of the planet, she was dressed down, uninterested; Dead almost. Not to mention that she only bought one drink. Michiru put the pieces together and realised that she must've broken up with her lover, and was still in pain. The ring was gone, as well as the cologne, and Michiru was left with an even bigger un-fulfilment then before when the woman was taken. Michiru wasn't selfish enough to feel sorry for her, even if that meant she was single and potentially available.

The absence before was almost unbearable, but now it plus the growing curiosity, the need to know for sure, caused Michiru over the next few days to only submerge deeper in her Art. Papers scattered the floor, paints were left out, and books left open unread.

On one particularly humid spring night, the kind where the moisture hangs in the air making everything damp and chilled by just being out in it, the yellowy ginger tomcat crouched on her balcony, with haunting green eyes and a miserable expression. Once again she beckoned to him and he watched her for a while before hoping down, and taking refuge under her lounge chair for most of the night. His back had been toward her almost stubbornly. However this gave her hope. She had been leaving food out for him every night since the first time he came, hoping to befriend him. Somehow those deep green eyes reminded her of the latte woman's, and she could use the company.

The next night the big tomcat(big in fluff terms) crouched above the dish of tuna flavoured crunches -unknowns to Michiru in the middle of the night- and ate till the tiny kitty paws drawn in a circle around the bottom could be seen. Licking his whiskers, the cat walked in as if all those nights of observation suddenly made him own the place. He sat on the floor below her bed, looking up at the coverlet curiously before helping himself up. He watched her sleeping form for a moment, before testing a squat softly edged forepaw against her slowly rising chest. Then he curled both under his weight as he laid down. After a moment, his watching eyes slipped closed contentedly.

Chords of Chopin mixed with the light dusting of moisture, not quite rain but not just mist either, through out the night. Fog curled its way through the alley as well, enough so that it obscured sight. Even the base of the fountain looked as though the mermaids were indeed jumping up on their own out of the water. The music, mixed with the light ripple of the leaves from the rain and the kitty's purring as he kneaded, was like a delicate lullaby.

When this musical lullaby that Michiru had grown so accustomed to stopped, she stirred a bit and opened her eyes. The soft purring thing against her side startled her, enough so that the ginger tomcat stood abruptly. He jumped to the floor, hissing a bit deranged from sleep himself. His fur was puffed indignantly, making him look ever more fluffy and round. She had startled him as well.

"Monsieur?" She muttered groggily, reaching out and letting the cat sniff her hand. Even though he jumped down he was still looking up at her about a foot away. Her head was pounding, even though she had been sleeping peacefully. Maybe it had to do with the last thought she had before she fell asleep, about something in her past. Something that, if it would find her, if it would come here.. What then? Her eyes pricked with unshed tears. She felt the tomcats eyes boring into her, as if concerned and she let herself smile a bit.

"It's Raining again..is that why you came to me?" After a moment hesitation, he jumped up and carefully resettled. She rewarded his loyalty with soothing pets, till he leaned over into her hand so much that finally he stood and fully climbed onto her chest, rather then falling over. He was a heavy boy, but his soft square jaw, with its prickly tickling whiskers and flat pink nose, made her smile despite her tears as he nudged her cheeks; So she let him stay.

"Who is she, Monsieur? Why do I care so much? Why does it hurt so much?" She asked aloud to the cat, who only purred and kneaded lightly in response, half asleep with its cheek against her collarbone. "Do you think she's okay?.." She asked, to no one in particular.

The music returned with that same foreboding intensity; No one in particular answered back.