Along the Rainy Avenue

A small round raindrop splashes onto the grey concrete, rippling the reflection of the sky. The rain brings cool air to the humid city, with relentless droplets that begin to submerge everyone’s heels.

New Yorkers are fast-paced walkers in any weather. Waiting under the awning of her building, she can see that clearly. The small spots of water around her turn into waves with everyone’s big steps. Above, the tsunami of rain continues to pour down fresh water.

She wonders if it would be possible to escape to her next destination, somewhat dry at least, with no umbrella.

She looks at the sky and wishes for the rain to stop, but realizes it would be in vain. New York City does not stop for anyone.

She knows she has to step out in her favorite dress and heels and run as fast as she can. As the raindrops poke her eyelashes, she sees a small kid dancing in the same rain she tries to run away from. She laughs at the sight, realizing what she has lost growing up.

As the rain intensifies, she decides to glide into the nearest shop—a bookshop around the corner.

“You can find some plastic bags for your umbrella…” the store clerk begins, only to trail off at the sight of the drenched patron who stepped in.

She manages a half-smile at the young boy, fixing her wet hair and sodden jacket to look even half presentable.

“…um, you can ring the bell if you need any assistance,” the teenager adds, probably as part of his practiced work dialogue.

She can’t stop the small helpless lift of her lips; surely she could use some help with her drenched clothes.

“There’s a towel in the back,” another warm voice says.

“Oh, thanks!” she says and turns around to find a pair of sympathetic blue eyes.

He smiles and guides her to the back. “It’s raining cats and dogs out there. Here is the towel, and the restroom is back there. I will make you some hot tea.”

She nods at his words and continues to look into his eyes until he turns around to get the tea.

“I feel like I know him,” she mumbles and walks into the restroom to dry herself as much as she can.

“Hey, I have brought you tea,” he says.

A door closes soundly. Then a teacup is placed gently on a wooden table. The scent of something hot and spiced fills up the space, warming her immediately.

“Thank you,” she tells him. He hums a nonsensical sound, leaning against the counter as she finishes drying her hair. She makes quick work of the towel. Finally, she turns back to the teacup before her.

“It smells wonderful,” she can’t help but comment as she brings the cup to her lips.

“My family’s secret recipe, always with a hint of cinnamon,” he tells her, his blue eyes sparkling.

She takes a sip, and the warmth of the tea spreads inside her. Holding it close to her chest, she smiles and says, “I am sorry, I never introduced myself. I am Ava.”

He smiles. “There is nothing to be sorry about. You were drenched; introductions were secondary. Nice to meet you, I am Nate.”

“I have lived here for so long, and yet I have never visited. It’s so funny that the first time I am visiting is not my best day,” she exclaims.

“And, it’s just my luck to be here for your non-best day,” he whispers.