MELODY (Rewritten #1)

New Beginning

And so I walked.

The streets of Manhattan were familiar. Always busy, always bright, and perfectly walkable. You knew one street, you knew them all. Although, more often than not, familiarity bred contempt, walking was still cleansing. I hated transportation. Especially the infamous New York subway. I preferred walking off the calories and avoiding unsafe places.
 

Just to be prepared, I decided not to pin my hopes on that barista job. It could've been taken already, but I welcomed the long walk. I didn't want to go back to the shelter too early and be the subject of the residents' gossip. I wouldn't find a place to hide from their scrutiny. Fitting in wasn't my strong point. And the shelter was the least private, most uncomfortable place in my world. My inescapable limbo.

As the chill of mid March penetrated my skin, I kept a steady pace along the sidewalk, clutching the front of my knitted sweater with one hand and carrying the paper bag with the other.

The sight of the monstrous buildings, getting taller as I walked forward, reminded me of a fantasy I'd conjured up about this city. A scary one, though.

I'd used to imagine that skyscrapers were giant beasts, hovering over the jungle, blocking the sun, and crushing the trees. Cars were predators that breathed venom and sucked the life out of smaller creatures. Survivors like me were way down the food chain. It was survival of the fittest.

But there was always something far worse. Vulnerable creatures who struggled to merely exist!

As if on cue, there was another sight. A painful one that squeezed my heart and brought tears to my eyes. A stooping, old man in a dusty coat, bending over a garbage can and scavenging for something to eat.

I froze in the middle of the sidewalk, feeling helpless. Incapacitated. This just shouldn't happen. Not here. Not anywhere.

I was dreadfully aware of the weight of the paper bag in my hand. Aware that I'd never starved in my life, except on a diet. Aware that I still had a roof above my head and a chance to survive. That, now, my problems seemed extremely insignificant.

Without much thinking, I marched towards the old man, who was still digging in the trash.

"Umm! Hello, sir?" I touched his shoulder lightly to get his attention.

The man flinched and half-turned to me, still looking down.

"Here's some food for you," I explained, lifting my hand with the bag.

He stayed motionless for a moment, then he took the bag from my hand without looking at me. I couldn't see his face, but that didn't matter. All I cared about was that he needed this lunch more than I did.

I heard a rough "thanks" from behind me as I walked away and a tiny weight was lifted off my conscience.

***

Ten minutes later, I arrived at the address on Lisa's flyer. The café was definitely not what I'd expected. It wasn't one of those commercial coffee chains that spread around every corner of Manhattan.

∆ C.C Café∆
~Make yourself at home~

Said the sign-board on top of the entrance. The board had a painting of a beautiful lady in an indian Saree, holding a fancy-colored teapot and smiling warmly. It seemed nice and cozy even from the outside. Most likely, it was a family business.

Another 'We're Hiring' ad was glued outside the door and it gave me hope that the job was still up for grabs. The glass door jingled softly as I pushed it and entered the cafe.

The place was half-full of patrons. They were unnaturally quiet, until I saw the 'Free WiFi' sign and the silence made sense.

The interior space was dimly lit by a warm, yellowish, mood lighting and slivers of sunlight sneaking in through the glass front.