Bloom

One: Pouring rain and books (5.3K)

I must have been as young as four or five when I heard stories about London for the first time. More specifically, I reckon watching 'The 101 Dalmatians' and Pongo's daily walk through Regent's park was what had started my deep affection towards the city I would eventually move to.

It was definitely not my primal trip to the City if anything I'd been there more times than I could recall yet every single time the air had seemed the same – carefree, little touch of hope and the British culture that would fascinate me forevermore.

This curiosity might have explained why, as soon as I had been offered one opportunity by my university – spending two semesters in a European country for my first year as a postgraduate – I had accepted immediately, London being the only choice possible. After the exhausting paperwork, the ridiculous difficulties of organisation and the sweat-breaking, I was there, finally independently living in the Square Mile.

Though life on campus had appeared like an incredible experience, I'd opted for an affordable small studio in North London, close to the few classes I'd attend and to my job as well. Indeed, I had been very lucky that the first job I had applied to had made me a part-time offer, allowing me to keep up with my courses and earn a decent income at the same time – the dichotomy of being a student.

I'd been living here for around three weeks now. I'd arrived earlier this month, giving myself the time to settle down, find new routines and get used to my surroundings before starting uni again. It was a beautiful Thursday afternoon, I had just gotten off of work however not taking advantage of that lovely sunny weather on this late September day would have been an unthinkable mistake. Always bringing a book with me wherever I'd go - you never know when you're going to need one - I headed towards Regent's park, expecting it to be full of people, mostly tourists or so I'd come to observe.

I exited the Tube – that was the first proper word I'd picked up from the 'Become a Londoner' guide I had once read when I was sixteen, thinking some words would be enough to turn me into a proper Londoner – and found my way through Outer Circle road until I saw the magnificent open gates, entering the park. I walked north for about twenty, thirty minutes until I found my usual spot; a big lone tree with two benches, not too close to the road but not too far from any exits just in case my anxiety picks up.

As Hercule Poirot started his decisive speech, I flicked the page, eager to read further into his suspicion. My eyes wandered off as I slowly let the book fall on my chest, allowing the air to invade my lungs and closing my eyes for a bit. The smell of autumn mixed with a hint of forest and fresh grass made me fall in love with this spot even more. I had always wanted to have a favourite spot wherever I'd go but had never gotten to actually find one back home.

A noise coming closer brought me back to reality; a few footsteps approaching. Turning my head to take a cheeky look, I saw a man sit down on the right bench a couple feet from me. I grinned, noticing he was wearing a bright yellow raincoat - He must have been a tourist assuming it is raining twenty-four seven in London.

"Why are you wearing a raincoat when it's a sunny afternoon?" I asked the stranger, grinning. He was taking his time with his reply, I assumed he had been plainly ignoring my remark by that point.

"You must not be from Britain, are you? It's going to shower in a bit." The voice echoed through my ears. That was the moment I realised who I was speaking to. My head turned again to look at him, and I honestly never would have thought that exchange could actually ever happen. My eyes aimed at the sky, no grey sky in sight.

"But there are no clouds, how are you so sure it's going to rain?" I frowned while speaking, clearly showing my confusion. I saw his dimples as he spoke again.