The raindrops fell onto my fragile skin, dribbling their way past the membrane like sunlight peeking through curtains, seeking a hideout from the storm. Couples in the windows of cosy coffee shops nestled together to preserve their warmth, their soft skin kissing the other. Flashes of pink and purple in the distance painted the skies and I was hypnotised. I found beauty in these simplicities. I lost myself in the rain and I lost myself in the distorted reflections the puddles showed me. It was beautiful.
My thoughts were jolted by a man's white teeth revealing themselves, stained with coffee, and mint to mask it, as they began to chatter. He opened the transparent glass sliders.
"Hurry on inside, Miss. The storm ain't gonna lift," his twang swirled through my ears, dancing on the buds in the delightful unknown. I tucked my scarf into my jacket and stepped inside, thanking him as I passed.
It was hardly the Ritz, dim lights flickering in time with the flashes of lightening outside. It was a mellow orange and matched the clerk's shirt as she forced a smile.
"Can I help you, Miss?" I dug around for my paperwork, passing it over, dragging my bag to my feet.
"I have a reservation under Alice Mckenzie." I watched the people around me while she typed. A man with an apparent fake beard entered, bearing two gold rings on both thumbs, one with a glistening ruby in the centre. I studied his face. He seemed to be searching for someone, or something, and his expressions gave away that they, or it, were not around.
"Okay, thank you, Miss McKenzie. Your room is number 93, on the third floor to the left. Enjoy your stay," the clerk, who's name tag claimed she identified as Kimberly, interrupted my nosey thoughts.
I thanked her and took the rusty key, steering my bag beside me, noticing the man had returned to the eye of the storm.
The room was small, a little cramped, but a bed was all I needed. I didn't plan on staying in much; a metropolitan city was thriving, shouting out for me just to listen. I needed this. I was here for a reason and I could make it. I knew I could. I just needed a chance.
My soaked top dripped onto the floor by my feet, as I started peeling my socks and jeans, which felt like a second layer of wet skin, off, catching a glance my locket as I bent down. I sighed quietly and stood up, taking it off slowly, gripping it in my hand quietly.
"I'm here, dad. I'm not going back there. I'm gonna make it here, for us and everything we wanted, I promise," talking to nobody except myself. Like always. No matter how loud I spoke, he would never hear me. But I still did it. And I'm sure I wasn't the only one.
With my suitcase under the small, neatly-made bed and my clothes drying, snuggly sweater and long socks on, I sat down. I was here. I could do this.
