Rain, Cats and Wine – A Short Story 

Art, Words

The onlooker couldn’t help but stop and observe, on the other side of the street five teenagers huddled together as the sky viciously kept pouring down on them. They were a strange sight, all of them completely different but somehow connected. Maybe it was the look of naïve adventure in their eyes, or maybe it was their love for the lamp lit city around them, that brought them together.
Making a move for it the girl with short black hair and short black fringe took the lead. Following her Shaun the Sheep backpack, oversized blue, red and yellow 80’s jacket the other four struggled to keep up with the pace of her DrMartens at first, but they all caught up eventually, disappearing into the Waterloo tube station.
The onlooker couldn’t help but follow, tailing after the ginger ponytail, charcoal skirt and green jacket of the girl running at the end of their odd little group. 
Dreading but also longing for the drops of water falling from the sky they all emerged from the station, The ginger ponytail quickly protecting herself with an umbrella. She said something to the girl with long blond hair, a black bomber and 90’s mum jeans, running in front of her. To the onlooker it sounded unfamiliar but the onlooker did not have time to think about it, before a car rushed by them and suddenly the ginger ponytail, mum jeans and the fourth and last girl-with a loose curly bun and green checkered jacket- in their odd equation were hit with the sudden sensation of it raining horizontally. They all stopped in a moment of pure shock in which the guy running, behind the 80’s jacket, with a buzzed head hidden under a cap wearing a black, white and red satin bomber, turned around and exclaimed “That was like something out of a movie”, before they all unfroze again. They ran around a corner and the onlooker tried to follow but lost the unusual quintet as the onlooker got blocked by all the people rushing to take cover from the still crying sky.

Trying to shake off the feeling of losing something valuable the onlooker couldn’t help but imagine where the 80’s jacket, cap, curly bun, mum jeans and ginger ponytail hade gone. The onlooker imagined them in a fairylit pub with brick walls and a cat roaming around, a place only a few people knew about, a place for writers and enthusiasts like themselves. The onlooker imagined them ordering drinks, talking about the 80’s jacket and the curly bun’s stay in Paris-books, bottles of wine and Shakespeare and co- and their upcoming month in the same city- Halloween, a tiny apartment and even more wine- as both girls sipped on a glass of their favourite drink which seemed to magically refill every time the curly bun reached for her bag. The onlooker imagined the cap passionately talking about politics, immigration, brexit and the hopes of the future, a future where their generation was the one making the decision, a generation of change. Lastly the onlooker imagined the mom jeans and the ginger ponytail devouring every second of every conversation, realising that moving might have been one of the best decisions  they have ever made and maybe just maybe they wouldn’t go home next year, but rather keep moving, keep exploring.

➢ M

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