they ran ran ran, feet pounding on the cracked sidewalk, raincoat flapping open behind them.
they were breathless, mind empty. they let the wind take them where it would.
by the time they stopped running, the sky was dark and the streetlights cast puddles of light.
they looked up.
the wind had taken them to a coffee shop.
they pushed open the door with a soft jingle and felt all the tension seep out of them. it was like the shop was giving them a hug.
strands of lights draped from the ceiling. old uneven brick walls. blackboards with the menu written in clear calligraphy. paintings
of the moon. dark oak floors that looked like they would creak.
a woman stepped out of the back room. she wore a leather jacket with the sleeves rolled up, exposing tattoos, stark black on pale
skin. she was shorter than them but on first glance appeared to be taller.
she felt like the loving mom they never had.
she rushed toward them with words like “honey” and “come in” and “hot chocolate.” waited for their permission and then
enveloped them in a hug.
she smelled like coffee and woodsmoke and flour. she smelled like love.