Some Dreams are Drafts

One Frank, rainy day

June, 2016

Canterbury

"Maroon really suits you, Sir." Jack found himself saying before he could stop himself. He was on the hunt for coffee, in an English countryside that he hadn't visited until the beginning of this month. He was on a four month tour, playing club cricket for a local team and was just settling in after the first match that had happened yesterday. His team had won by a decent margin and although there weren't any celebrations as such, they had all decided to get some sleep.

Well, everyone except Jack.

Don't misunderstand Jack, he would have loved nothing more than a relaxing sleep but his body had a craving. After the sun was up, Jack was habituated, sparing the use of a stronger word, to drinking a cup of coffee. Jack enjoyed brewing his own coffee but nothing satiated him like finding a café and taking the risk of trying their coffee but on any given day, you could befriend him by offering a cup of flat white coffee that contained steamed milk and espresso. By the time it arrived, you could be certain that you had earned a place in Jack's good books.

Today was different though. Jack was craving a cup of mocha. It was a mocha kind of day. A day where the skies were grey and rumbles of thunder had announced that it was going to rain. The air was heavy, damp with desires. It was as if the town had inhaled a deep breath, sucking all the dust and tardiness and was waiting for the moist exhale.

In fact, Jack had landed in this lane and in the café he was in at this moment because the crescendo had been reached and rain had finally poured. Suddenly the town was enlivened. The decibels rose, people spoke more and laughed more. Jack could see the change everywhere around him. The couple that was walking in front of him had reached out to hold their partner, probably so that they could fit under an umbrella. But one could sense that the proximity had helped them be more of themselves, as they joked and the man threw his head up, laughing.

The windows of shops found a new cheer as raindrops laced them and shop owners smiled, beckoning those stealing a glance at whatever their shops sold - bread, cake, flowers.

Jack liked to call this the monsoon magic. For someone who grew up with a lot of rain in the background, Jack was unusually fond of the rains. Or more than that, he liked who he was when it rained : a more lively version of himself.

The old man in front of Jack peered down at his maroon sweater and his face lit up like a firefly in a dark room.

"Thanks, son. My wife made it herself and gifted it to me, last Christmas. You see these initials, L and M, that's me, Liam and her, Maureen." Jack's smile widened which encouraged Liam to continue talking.

"She loves coffee but cannot for the life of her get out of bed in the morning to have these coffee dates with me." When he grinned, Jack could see another visage beneath the lines on his face. It was almost as if he wasn't staring in the eyes of a man but a young boy.

A young boy who loved a young girl.

The young girl who loved to sleep.

"And so I am surprising her with her favourite cappuccino from her favourite cafe." He smiled at the barista as he placed an order.

Meanwhile Jack could only smile as wide as his cheeks allowed. Our Jack, did you know, had a slant smile. The kind of smile that hints at mischief but makes you believe in it's good natured mischief maker. The same slant smile that had made Bhavika hold a torch in her heart for him.

"I used to do this often." Liam continues as he waits for his order.

"Every day in fact. Those were good old days when my knees used to support me. Now, they're weak, allowing me only a handful of trips in a month. Anyways, lad what was I saying..." He looked at Jack for an answer that he found himself,