It rained ULTRA hard this morning, and I think it was my fault. I was sitting on the... floor of my boyfriends bedroom shortly after I woke up, and the sun was shining and it was warm out. I had a feeling it was going to be a good day. I s.tarted to say so, but I got half-way through the sentence when the sun hid behind a cloud and stayed there. :( not too long after that the sky opened and dumped a shitload of water all over the place. It was crazyness. Forget raining cats and dogs, it was raining lions and wolves. but, that had no effect on the bbq we had planned for a family birthday party. My dad is a badass and grilled in the rain. Wearing a mutha-fuckin party hat.

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I watched my breath come out of my mouth in little white puffs as I walked briskly down a steep hill. My headphones pounded the bass into my skull, and my feet had no choice but to move with it. I could feel the music in every inch of my body, and when the soles of my shoes hit the concrete, I was completely sure that they shook the earth.

On days like this, there is no one on the earth but me, and nothing in my way but time and open air.

I got to the bottom of the hill, and crossed the street. There was a little coffee shop on my right, and I decided to go in. It was freezing out, after all. After pulling open the door, I was greeted with a blast of warm air that smelled like a subtle mix of coffee and my grandmother.

I was intrigued.

I pulled my headphones down and stopped the music. It's always awkward when you realize how quiet life is outside your head once it's been filled with music.

The girl behind the counter had beautiful hair, and she made me something to drink. A tossed my change in the jar and sat down at a little wooden table facing a huge painting of a black dead tree on a brown canvas. I though about putting my headphones back on and returning to my beloved world of pounding trance drums, but the dim lights and smells of grandma send me instead into a deep desire for muted dispassion.

Not long after, the door opened and let in a draft.

I had no desire to look up at the person who had entered until I heard their footsteps. Slow, loud, and echoing. Just like the drums. The owner of this distinctive stride was a thin elderly man, conservatively dressed. One of his shoes was untied. He made his way to the counter and ordered black coffee. He watched the girl make his drink, and I knew he thought her hair was beautiful, too.

I heard change fall into the tip jar, and then his steady footfalls began again. I knew he was heading in me direction because I could feel his steps vibrrating in the floor, stronger with every advancement. He came around the corner and was about three feet from me when his gait was interrupted. He tripped over his own leather laces and caught himself on the table in front of me. His screaming hot coffee flew through the thick air and landed in my lap. The paper cup and plastic lid hit the ground by his feet. I yelped and covered my face with my hands.

Realizing that nothing was moving anymore, I lowered my hands to find the old man back on his feet and staring at me with wide, wet eyes. I looked back at him, and he moved his mouth like he was trying to say something, but was choking on the words.

The girl who worked behind the counter came over and asked if everything was okay. I nodded, and she left us. I turned my eyes back to the old man, and saw his eyes were full of tears. This embarrassed me for some reason, and I could no longer look at him. I turned my attention instead to the red, inflamed skin on my thighs. He stood there motionless for a few seconds.

"I'm sorry."

His heavy, idle tread began again, and the door opened.

He was gone. I understand now that in the instant he saw that his carelessness had caused me, a total stranger, injury, I was no longer myself in his eyes. I was some very important. I was someone from a different time, someone who he hurt very badly with a different sort of carelessness. I was an enchanting girl from his youth. I was his mother. I was an ex-wife. I was his sister. I was the beautiful door to a place he never wanted to go again.

On my walk back home, my breath came out in the same white puffs, but my feet moved of their own accord because there was no music to guide them. I was deep in thought.

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