There is such a thing as a good rainy day. When the water drops hit rooftops and windows in a just right manner, creating a calming rhythm that can convince even the busiest of bodies to relax in the warmth of their homes and watch the weather in relative peace.
This was not one of those rainy days.
This rainy day was one of aggression rather than calm. The drops were more like a nonstop flurry of noise than a constant rhythm, cutting across building and person alike leaving evergrowing puddles for stomping and flooding and soaked clothes for anyone unlucky enough to be caught outside without an umbrella.
Unfortunately, Max Enfield was one such unlucky person, and unluckiness seemed to have been following the man around quite persistently throughout the day. From morning to late afternoon he had found all his proper work clothes not properly dry out the dryer, smelling of mildew and a scented marker’s attempt at floral, his boss ten times more critical and ten times more lazy than usual, and the misplacement of his wallet which left him lunch-less. A day when nothing seemed to be going right and one too many minor things could turn major beyond belief.
The cutting rain just seemed to be the hard tasteless fondant on an already rather dry, crappy cake.
Which is what has led to the current running visage of a rather slim man messily dressed in a suit five ways too soaked to not fit properly, covering a head of brown hair with his blazer shielding what was already wet like a soiled beach towel. And if you listened close enough under the battering of rain against brick and pavement, you could hear him cursing to high heaven.
“Stupid fucking shitty ass dryer, stupid fucking shitty ass boss, stupid fucking rain, and stupid fucking me forgetting a stupid fucking umbrella and not checking the damn weather!” Through grit teeth and rain slick hair came an amalgamation of much of Max’s frustration with the world, although there wasn’t much else he could do to express his distaste for how the day was gone while stuck at least a good few blocks away from his apartment and having missed the city bus he often took to and from work. Running through the streets of the city was his best bet at reaching home. But the rain kept falling harsher and harsher until he could barely see down the street.
“And now I’m blind too. Fan-fucking-tastic, just what I needed today.”
The only clear standouts among the waves of rain and mist were the lights of signs, lampposts, and out the windows of businesses, rounding out their own paths in the onslaught. Pushing through the pellets as best as he could, Max eventually found refuge under the canopy cover of a storefront, taking the opportunity to wring the water from his blazer until it no longer dripped from the fabric uncontrollably, instead just leaving it damp to the touch. Assessing himself only left Max feeling even more frustrated.
Hair? Sticking to his head like a glove. Shirt? Soaked. Slacks? Soaked. Socks? Soaked beyond any possible attempts at feigned comfort. Shoes? Felt like a pond had made them its home. Full analysis: looking, feeling, and smelling like a wet dog. And about a single event away from breaking down in public.
Max took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose in a desperate attempt at distracting himself from the pressure building behind his forehead and the water running from his head to his toes and maybe in reverse too. The migraines had finally started to get better after his medication change too but those seemed to be coming back full force today too.
“Shit.” A deep breath and grimace and hair slicked back away from his forehead. “Just… shit.” He was not gonna cry in the middle of the street after going through the entire day without even a grumble until now, he just couldn’t, not when he was already beyond words for wet and stressed and just so, so tired of everything and waiting for this day to end. Max just needed to wait out the weather and get home. Take a long, burning hot shower and have a warm drink after, maybe some whisky would knock the thoughts right out of his head, and some cookies- cookies would be great. He could practically smell them already and it was somewhat easing the hell of an oncoming migraine beating behind his eyes.
Actually, he could smell the cookies. The slightly burning sugar and warm chocolate and comforting sweetness of it floating through the strongly rain scented air. Turning himself around, the smell actually got stronger, drifting out of the closed door of the restaurant(?) behind him. That hadn’t been there earlier. At least, Max hadn’t noticed it earlier when he came for cover under the green canopy that protected the place. Steeling himself against the lingering pain in his skull and sloshing of water in his shoes, the brown-haired man welcomed himself inside to the warm glow of undertone lights and filtering soft jazz. The chill of the outside world washed away under the scent of coffee, wood, and sweet, sweet cookies. Behind the front counter stood a woman with her dark hair in a tight bun atop her head, body away from the door and wiping a mug dry before her attention was attracted by the bell above the door letting out a gentle ring.
“Welcome to Café Colette. I’m Colette, what can I get yo-” The woman’s voice was smooth until she fully faced towards her and her eyes went wide as her voice did high, “JESUS YOU LOOK TERRIBLE.”
There was a pause in even the music of the place as both parties digested what had been said, the woman known as Colette covering her mouth in embarrassment after realizing what she had let slip and Max attempting to make himself look the least bit more presentable before giving up.
“I am so, so very sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“It’s fine. I know I look like shit- pardon my language.”
“No pardons needed, sir. Can I get you anything? A towel or two perhaps?”
“Make it three.”
“Of course, one moment, please.”
The exit excuse was accepted without hesitation by Colette as she went a rushing behind the counter to the back of the place, disappearing into what Max supposed was the kitchen and beyond. The lack of patronage was the first thing he noticed along with the atmosphere. He would have expected a larger turnout of soaked individuals in the place with the rain, at least one more than himself, but there was no one. Just the shiny varnish of wood tables and a bar with cozy looking seats he couldn’t bare to sit in while still dripping water onto the nice wood floor of the cafe.
While Max was wallowing in what was left of his shame, Colette returned to view with her arms stuffed with 4 fluffy towels, throwing one haphazardly on a seat at the bar of the counter and gesturing him over with huffs of air and an awkward elbow wave. The towels were warm, fresh out of a quick tumble most likely as they were tossed over Max as he sat down.
“There we go, sir. Can I get you anything else? A coffee? Tea? Warm milk even? Cookies in the back just finished baking, they’re fresh.”
“I would love to have any of those things, but my wallet’s been lost. Can’t have something and not pay for it. The towels are plenty, miss.”
“Oh, don’t worry about the money, sir. It’ll be on the house, rainy day barista insult discount.”
“...You sure?”
“Yes, very.”
Who was he to look the only gift horse he’s gotten all day in the mouth?
“You got any chamomile back there?”
“Yes, of course. Would you like lemon or honey with that?”
“Please. And some of those cookies, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“Of course not, sir. I’m on it.”
And so while Max scrubbed himself as dry as he could while Colette went bustling around behind the bar counter, heating water and steeping tea before hurrying back to get the cookies requested and get the rest of them set out. Most of this was accompanied only by the sway of the jazz from the cafe speakers and Colette’s movements.
After a short while, the soft clink of plates against wood brought Max’s head out from under one of the towels. One held his chamomile tea with a lemon slice floating within, honey and a spoon on the side for his own additions whilst the other held an assortment of small butter cookies.
“Here you are, sir. Hope you enjoy.”
“Thank you so much, I really needed this.”
“It’s no problem. Let me know if you need anything else.”
And maybe it was because everything else had been a mess, but that may have been the best cup of tea and cookies Max had ever had.
