Refuge

It was late afternoon and she sat at the small table in the window of the over crowded coffee shop. The fading light shone through the window and gently highlighted the outer edge of her face giving an ethereal illumination to her pale, elven features. The steam from the hot coffee on the table in front of her rose like two wavering stands weaving and entwining in the warm breeze that came from the air conditioning unit above the front door of the shop. The door opened and closed at rapid intervals as more drenched passers by sought refuge from the downpour outside.

Her long hair was drying naturally in the warmth and was now falling in loose curls around her face. Her dark brows were nipped in a tight frown of concentration as she fully submerged herself in her reading material. A good book was always to be found in her oversized handbag. She often used reading as a way of being alone without actually being alone, as though the words were being spoken to her by a friend or acquaintance rather than written on the pages.

She had crossed her long legs when she first sat down and she now found that she needed to shift in her seat to allow the circulation to be restored to her toes, which were now going numb inside her heavy black winter boots. As she uncrossed, the toe of her moving leg caught the shaft of the umbrella that she had rested against the leg of the table to drip dry and it clattered to the floor, spraying droplets of rainwater onto the pushchair that had been parked in the gap between her and the neighbouring table. She looked up, momentarily surprised. The falling umbrella had disturbed her focus on the alternate reality within the pages of the book.

She scanned the long curving queue along the length of the varnished oak counter at the back of the shop and she could hear the sound of the coffee machine chugging and spluttering into life as the staff were making cappuccinos, lattes and macchiatos. People were still arriving, dripping wet from the deluge outside, and were awaiting hot beverages, ordered in the hope that the heat from the hot liquid would somehow transfer to their sodden clothes and hair and dry them out. The air inside the shop was becoming damp now with all the wet clothing gathering around the small tables and this was condensing on the windows, steaming them up against the now dark evening.

A thick dark curl of hair, now dry, slid down across her face and tickled her nose and she absently took it between her fingers and wedged it behind her ear to keep it out of her eyes. She continued to read, aware that time was moving on and it was well into the evening. She hoped she would not have to continue taking shelter here for much longer.