THE NOVEL

10. Day

“Two steps ahead of the rain.”

That day, everyone was looking at the sky. Passers-by on the street waved their heads, took pictures and pointed with their fingers, taxi and bus drivers peeked through the tiny windows in order not to miss the main attraction with the impatience and honking of other cars. People from the office, like little meerkats, who have gone out for the first time today, hurriedly trot to the sound of their shoes on the asphalt, getting ready to leave early in case of danger. Since morning, the Internet has been buzzing only about how to get there and protect things, where to hide if the Hurricane winds start, and useful tips; which supermarkets are open until 9 p.m. for the last purchase of already thin stocks, toilet paper of course. Fear and trembling spread wherever he could. He even found himself in the eyes of school children who, for a change, stopped typing on their cell phones for a minute and started recognising shapes in the sky. Insurance companies must have been rubbing their hands and fantasising about a fat commission. As if a storm had never been brewing until now. True, the clouds darkened in all directions and descended more and more downward, on the city that was always pulsing and that always seemed somehow disinterested. Moreover, life seemed lovely. Maybe cuter than usual, despite all the nervousness that one day everything will be full of birds and dark and that everything will return to some sad age. I tapped my foot, looking at all that struggle and despair, quite calmly and quite quietly, observing that strange strain. I warmed my hands on a large brown cup that smelled of caramel. I was the only one sitting outside in front of the small café. Huddled between two windows, bathed in the unusual afternoon rays of the sun, they were trying with all their might to get past all that darkness. The café was located a little further outside the centre on a one-way street. Overgrown with ivy and some climbing plants, it gave a charm as if you could travel through time, or at least forget about time. High narrow wooden windows stretched across the café and made this place like a diamond. The dark wooden interior, full of all kinds of pictures, newspapers and books. He smelled of paper, coffee, freedom. In silence, in my chair, which always saved my place. I guess because it was cornered in the surrounding ivy. But it didn’t bother me. Moreover, at least that way, I knew it was waiting for me. As always, I was greeted at dawn by unfriendly workers who saw me as a bum, a homeless person with no life. And as I order my usual and take change out of my pocket, I know they’re wondering where I get the money to afford this every day. I always have the same answer ready for them with a half smile: “People are divided into those who sweat a lot and smell a little, and those who sweat a little and smell a lot.” I know that when I turn around, they would roll their eyes and shake their heads, but they don’t know that makes me more satisfied. Because when I sit down, observing them from around the corner from the outside, I see them. Because that’s when they always show themselves in the true sense of the word.