I knew as soon as I locked the door and let it swing close that I should have stopped to put on a jacket. It was dreadfully cold outside, and although there was no snowfall yet, there would the next time it rained. A pity, that we city dwellers wouldn't even be allowed the luxury of seeing clean snow. The streets were so riddled with filth and decay that the pure white flakes became a muddled gray mess upon impact. There would be no snowmen to marvel at as a smiling couple walked towards their favorite coffee shop, no children in the park center making snow angels, their exuberant cries of joy ringing throughout the crowded walls and streets. There would be no snowball fights or miniature forts being built to protect from the onslaught of attackers. Rather, the city denied us this one simple pleasure, forcing us to slog through the same clumped mess, day after day, deprived of such a singular joy.
The wind whipped around me, as the piercing cold brought me back to my senses, and I realized I had been standing outside my locked apartment momentarily. I tossed about the idea of returning to the slightly warmer comfort to retrieve a coat, or even to recline in my chair, and maybe read a book or do a crossword puzzle. I couldn't recall the last time I had finished a crossword from the weekly paper. However, I decided against a strategic retreat, opting to head down a few blocks to the bakery, where I was certain the warm atmosphere and heavenly pastries would liven my spirits.
I began my journey at a moderate pace, observing the all so familiar surroundings encasing me. It seemed that cracked sidewalks and crumbling brick walls were omniscient here, ever looming about me. I shook off the negativity approaching me by lifting my head up, and I decided I would sing a song as I went. Immediately, the happy sounds of Big Rock Candy Mountain flourished through my mind, and I whistled along with the rich melody. My head shook back and forth as I sang along in my head. I could almost picture the mountain itself, with lakes of stew and whiskey and streams of alcohol, complete with wooden legged police. That thought garnered me a laugh, and I had a more energized step in my pace as I lost myself in music.
I was so engulfed with humming to myself that I nearly missed the entrance to the bakery. I stopped myself before passing the glass doors, and stopped for a moment to glance inside. The lighting gave a healthy atmosphere to the place, as people were happily seated throughout the dining area, enjoying a delicacy or just chatting. I opened the door, and the rush of warm air greeting me reminded me of how cold it was outside. I had seemingly forgotten how shockingly frigid I had been, although I quickly warmed up once inside. I eyed the tables for an empty table to sit at, until I found one off to the corner of the room. I had just gotten comfortable in the straight backed wooden chair, when a young man appeared at the edge of my table, notepad in hand, eagerly expecting my impending order.
"Hello sir, what would you like today?" He looked from me to his empty notepad to me.
"Hmmm, I think an Éclair will work."
"Would you like anything else, sir? Maybe a warm coffee?"
"Yeah, sure. Put me down for an espresso," I said as I smiled at him.
He returned the look, and quickly hustled away to behind the counter, where I heard the order being read aloud. I rested my hands on the worn tabletop as I waited; rather glad I made the decision to come here. It seemed as if recently, all of my time was spent working or in my cramped apartment. It felt good to get outside, to do something for once. Just then, the waiter arrived with a plate of éclair, and gingerly set down a steaming cup of brew. I dug into my pocket, and shelled out some crumpled dollars to offer him. Another grin spread across his face as he took my tip, and even bowed to me before leaving to take another order.
