[30-DAY WRITING CHALLENGE] PROMPT #4: Uncertainty and Serendipity

Prompt #4: Uncertainty and Serendipity

Just  your ordinary  coffee shop

The double glass door opened with a soft chime of the bell and brought in the fresh smell of rain. Behind the wooden counter, a girl called: “Welcome to Portal Café. May I take your order?”

Outside, the streets buzzed with moving vehicles and hurried pedestrians. A car passed by, honking its horn and splashing across a small puddle. Soaked children played under the pouch, reaching out to cup the rain and laughing at each other’s muddy faces. Small droplets of water rolled down the glass panes, their paths slow and crooked, as though they were trying to peer into the warm space of the café.

Michael breathed in the distinct smell of coffee and milk and felt a pleasant tingle in his chest. The place was almost empty, a few people here and there with their steaming drinks. Classical music flowed from small speakers, mixing with the murmur of conversations and the clinking of utensils on china cups. He twirled his spoon in his drink; the bubbly soda seemed to shine in the soft golden light of the shop. The counter girl called it “Waiting for sunlight”, the water as blue as the sky with cloud-white ice cubes. It was the shop’s special for the day, the taste sweet and fresh and reminding him of the clean air after the rain, with just a hint of the indescribable smell of sunlight on fleshly washed clothes.

Michael closed his eyes and leaned against the fluffy pillow behind him. He felt surreal, like his body was melting with the ice in the almost empty glass. From somewhere, someone hummed. Soft and sweet, so similar yet so different from the lullaby his mother used to sing.

Michael smiled.

~o~

Fate had an odd way of functioning.

Michael never understood what strange magic had convinced him to go out in the rain that day, but he was glad that it did. He never knew why he went the direction he did, but he was happy that it took him to the Portal Café. The homely building, tucked away in an unnoticed corner, small and soft and quiet as if belonging to another world, had become his safe haven.

The rows of ancient scripts and extraterrestrial language flitted on Michael’s laptop’s screen as he listened to the hum of the coffee maker and inhaled the sweet scent of hot, foamy milk. His cup of honey tea was warm next to his hand, the amber-colored liquid shimmering merrily. It smelled and tasted like home. Like the days running though his family’s herbs fields, under the sun and colorful clouds. Like summer nights when they gathered around the table, his mother bringing out the crude metal kettle and poured each of them a cup of steaming tea. Michael teared up at the memory, sipping on the hot drink. It burned a little, the tea, or maybe it was the sudden emotion that created a lump in his throat.

He silently thanked the fate that brought him to this café, because he could taste the flavor of home again.

~o~

The thing about life was that things never were the way they looked.

Michael didn’t notice at first.

How the tea and the soda and coffee never tasted the same after each order.

How the counter girl whom he had been talking to for a while now sometimes muttered a strange, melodious language under her breaths.

And the book lining the shelves  was too old, too eccentric for an ordinary coffee shop.   

Michael should have known, right from the day he stepped foot inside the cosy store: Portal Café was filled with magic.

Michael let himself hope, just for a little bit. 

That Portal Café was the door for him to go home...