by Aric

Tap... tap.. tap..

Heavy raindrops hit the window in an irregular rhythm, merging with each other as they slid downwards.
The thus created streams met with other beads and strings of water on their way down and finally hit the bottom of the frame.
There they formed small puddles that moved closer and closer to the abyss.. when they came too near, single drops where pushed over the edge by the pressure of all the others coming form above. They tried to cling on, as had their brothers before them, but all in vain..

Tap... tap.. tap..

The spoon ploughed through the cinnamon sprinkled foam, circling inwards as it went. When it reached the center the movement changed. Now swift strokes originating in the center were drawn to form a star like pattern in the white, soft soil.

Tap... tap.. tap.. clink..

Her head and face had not moved for the last ten minutes as she stared outside the window into nothingness. She gently lifted up the cup and let her lips destroy the piece of art she had so carefully created beforehand.
The bitter-sweet taste of sugar infused coffee filled her mouth and she felt the tickling foam on her upper lip.

Tap... tap.. tap..

Still looking outside, her hand went inside her tweed jacket's pocket returning with a mechanical pencil between the thin, white, almost transparent fingers. Her veins could be seen beneath the skin. She flicked open a notebook with her other hand and then, deliberately, turned her gaze from the rainy outside to the page and began to write carefully:

"Freedom of thought can not exist, for this requires a free mind and this is not so. If freedom of thought can not exist, how can it be a right for someone to possess or even to grant?"
"If there is no freedom of thought, is there meaning to any experience, is there meaning to any action?"

Then after some more careful thought, she wrote in crooked letters across the whole page:
"What's the point of it all?"

Tap... tap.. tap..

She re-arranged her colorful scarf and shifted her gaze back outside.

Tap... tap.. tap..

Steps on the wooden floor.

"Everything alright with you, Clara?", said the young man with a long brown ponytail standing in front of her. He wore a dark green apron over his black shirt, smiling and holding a notepad in his hand.

She noted this as an attempt to conceal the real meaning of his question.
"Oh, yes I'm fine, thank you though.. wait, could I get the bill please?", as he turned to look after other guests. He turned his head in mild surprise and she thought she could see a flicker of disappointment cross his face.
"Sure, I'll be right back."
While she waited, she inspected her mirror image in the window. Her face was light, pale almost, except for a touch of red on her cheeks. Eyes like emeralds, sparkling with intent, covered by small rectangular glasses with a minimalist wire frame. Her auburn hair tied in a bun, pierced by two metallic hair needles that formed an X.

"Thanks Dan, see you tomorrow", she said when the young man returned and she paid. As she got out of the small vintage-style café she had spent the last 2 hours thinking, she put up her umbrella against the rain. It was not exactly pouring, but the rain was enough that she would be drenched by the time she arrived at home.

She liked the city when it rained. There were less people around and the rain shielded against some of the noise. Beneath her umbrella she was in her own little bubble of silence and contemplation.

Before long her path led across the street, so she had to wait for the light to turn green. A bus approached, splashing water as it drove through puddles of water. Not for the first time Clara imagined to take a step forward or simply jump. The feeling was similar to that of a child, wanting to try out something new and unknown. As such it had a very tempting, exploratory quality to it. And it would be so easy too.. what would happen? All it took to find out was to... take... one... small... step...

NO!

At this thought her fists clenched , the knuckles white, whiter even than her skin... her nails digging in her hand, deeper and deeper.. and the bus was past. The light switched to green and Clara began walking across the street. This had been closer than usual. Or so it felt. She was not unfamiliar with these curious thoughts, wanting her to try, because "why not?" . They also came up every time she waited for a train or stood on tall buildings.

She arrived at her address, entered and ascended the stairs all the way to the top floor and entered her small one-room apartment. After changing into more comfortable sweatpants and t-shirt, she removed her bra and a feeling of relieve flowed through her body as she relaxed. She sat cross-legged on her bed and fired up her laptop.

'Ding'

She had a new message.

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