Postdamm 44

My dress clings to my body as the rain soaked through the thin fabric. We stand sheltered underneath the shed's perforated wooden roof, our wet bikes pitched up against its moulding timber walls, feeling the temperature drop around us. I don't realise I'm shivering until Mannfry's warm hands reach for my shoulders and he starts softly rubbing his arms up and down the length of my arms. There's a slight smile on his parted lips. With every breath he takes, I see his condensing misty breath exhale around us.
I take very slow deliberate steps towards him until I am able to turn my head and rest my left cheek on his chest. from this angle, I can see Postdamm 44 in all its glory as it stands against the grey cloudy sky. Its dark wooden beams blend in with the wetting cherry brick. The overgrown vines up its side glistened wetly. The house was made for this landscape and every part of it screams so.
As I take in the great historical house, I feel Mannfryd hesitating against me. His heart beats louder, creating a rhythm with the platter of the rain around us. His hesitation doesn't last. I feel his muscular arms wrap tentatively around me, engulfing me in his warm cocoon. I feel his lips touch the top of my head and have to close my eyes as the warmth sends a lovely shiver down the back of my neck and the length of my spine.
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A last-minute biking trip through northern Germany sounds like the perfect getaway for Amani. Away from the bustling city of Dubai, away from her overbearing parents, her ungrateful boss, her catty friends and her unattainable crush.
After meeting her tour guide, the silent and borderline unfriendly Mannfryd, she starts to second-guess her rash decision. Add the wet and rainy German weather and what was meant to be a resetting expedition slowly turns into a nightmare.
When a neglected house numbered 44 on the street called Postdamm stops her in her track, she learns that the north had more in store for her than she'd expected.