Lemon iced tea and you // h.s

hope in hopeless

"Peach come back. Don't run away"

January 23 2007

I sat on an empty bench in the corner of a dingy eatery, listening to some Parker. The sun was oddly bright this morning and clouds had donned a dull parlour of serenity. The streets were full of people running away from their troubles and young kids getting prepared for them. It wasn't so peaceful after all.

Wiping my brows full of sweat, I take a slurp of my lemon iced tea.

It all began 3 years ago.
This very place, the atmosphere, the people, the lemon iced tea.

January 23 2004

Pushing past people, I hurriedly ran across the Highland bridge just in hopes to get a taxi.
I glanced at my clock and the rush of adrenaline kicked in.

I was running for a job that had accepted a poor scholar of just a matric pass to be the assistant of a reputed entrepreneur of the city at that time.
Reporting was scheduled at 10:30 am and it was already half past the permissible time.
Nonetheless I kept running to a point where my lungs gave up and I had to stop for a halt.

I knew I had lost my job and screwed up my whole career.
Wooho!
Let's celebrate my success.
I thought and entered the "Cafe Au Lait" - a branch of the French based beverage store that specialised in serving the best lemon iced tea.
Little did I know.

The cafe was full of old men in casual attires sitting adjacent to where the gazettes displayed the daily news of crimes and terrorism.
What had this world come to? I thought and spotted an empty bench, taking long strides towards it before anybody else claimed their spot.

My knees felt terrible and my breathing was rugged. The locks that fell on my face naturally were sticking with sweat to my forehead and the top I wore was crumbled on the sides.
To sum it up, I was a mess.
I sat on the bench with my head hung low and disappointment within me.

"Good morning Ma'am, may I take your order?" the waiter gave me a toothy smile, trying to manage the rush of the peak hours. I randomly screened through the menu when I heard a raspy baritone,

"One lemon iced tea for the lady..." I looked behind my bench and saw a curly haired bo- man wearing blue high tops, sling guitar on his back and a soft smile on his lips.

"And who might you be to place my order?" I spat an attitude.

"I could be your friend" he said nonchalantly

Before I could speak further he smiled and left, running towards the pedestal on which he connected his lead chord with his guitar. He strummed his guitar carefully and twisted the knobs to tune it.
I examined his face and saw contentment.

How could he be so satisfied by just tuning his guitar right?

He looked around and his pair met mine. He mouthed something which made sense only after he disconnected his lead,

"It's good....trust me"