I grabbed a cup of coffee fast and sat reading the reports about that pokey afternoon. The rain, outside, was gliding on the showcases and the neon lights was fading out to dusk. I’ve dried myself out from the dispersing drops outdoors, heating me with some swigs of ristretto.
I’ve kept on looking through the showcases when unexpectedly noticed a hasty figure with its desperate steps coming to the coffee shop. Her heavy breathing could be seen as little cloudlets of storming thoughts.
“She’s beautiful, anyway”
The doorbell rang. And every single person turned to look at her, as they were also following her steps and breaths outside the sidewalks. I’ve burst into a silent laughter and tried hacking it, pretending to clear my throat.
She sighed closing her wet umbrella, then looked for an empty spot. Worried with something but the rain, she sat oppose to me babbling some swear-words.
- I damn espresso, please! – She ordered shivering.
She sighed again and elbowed to the table disentangling her soaked hair. I could hear the whimpering. The sole whimpering.
The door slammed behind us. A wretched man, with a loathsome posture and a wary sight seems to be looking for someone, chasing with his eyes a recognizable face that must be so anxious to meet with.
- Oh, no! Not in here – She murmured hopelessly.
When I looked backward, the rascal was nearby and, suddenly, I just could feel the stride pulling me out of his way as I was a fucking petty obstacle that must to be removed to reach the target.
- You asshole! – She shouted full lungs.
He jabbed her right in the nose passing her out instantly. Then he watched his artwork, the unconscious body on the floor, and signed with a spit.
- That is the price for paying, you fucking hooker – He pulled the tables out and disappeared crossing the street corner.
Nobody moved a muscle. I watched the silence for few moments while trying to figure out what just happened. Senseless. I pulled myself together and bent next to her analyzing the whole damage.
- Hey – said the man behind the counter – get rid of that bitch, I don’t want the cops at this place, did you hear me?
I nodded. But wouldn’t be sensible wandering around in the rain with a fainted girl surrounded my arms. Well, could be romantic, if I were Gene Kelly performing Fred Astaire’s melodies. But I am not. Moreover, both men that referred to her called her “bitch” – not a good score of fan page, I suppose.
- Come on, dude, get this woman out of here.
- Ok, man. Chill out! We are going away – I held her in my arms, calmly, to avoid further injuries, and we went out of the coffee shop. Under the awing, preventing from the rain, I wondered where we could go. So instantly occurred to me that the hospital would be honest and plausible.
- Well, ma’am, let’s see the doc, but, ‘till there, think the rain will help out to wash and heal your wounds and bruises away.
We were one block from the city hospital, which would give me about two minutes to make up a story with some good plots.