The Stranger on the Street
GiaB prompt #12 hot beverages
Although the thick chunks of snow had finally stopped falling sometime last night, the morning air was still bitter and the ground remained stubbornly covered in white. On the pavements, it had been trampled into grey, unappetizing slush, and it would no doubt be treacherously icy later on. Lauren had been just in time for a bed at the shelter on Chalk Street last night and prayed she would have the same luck tonight. She knew it was only set to get colder.
But for the moment, she would need to brave the numbness seeping through her bones. Wearing every item of clothing she owned, she was tightly wrapped in the sleeping bag she’d found abandoned in a doorway last week. It reeked of stale sweat and alcohol, but Lauren had become pretty good at ignoring the stench. Like most things recently — offensive smells, supercilious looks from passers-by, her own aimlessness. Although it was hard to ignore the frigid dampness of the ground that was currently in the process of invading her sleeping bag.
In front of her was an old coffee cup, put there in hope of catching the attention of somebody kindly enough to drop in a few coins. Lost in her thoughts, Lauren hadn’t realised that at this very minute a pair of anonymous black loafers had come to a stop in front of the cup. She waited, hoping that the lingering stranger would perhaps think she was asleep and be on their way. They didn’t. In fact, she could now see that the person attached to the shoes was beginning to crouch down. Oh, hell.
Lauren steeled herself for whomever she was about to encounter. She hoped it wasn’t the owner of the shop she was currently sat outside, or a self-important someone trying to do their “civil duty” by moving her on. She had encountered a few of those before. Muscles tensed, she looked up. The gentle brown eyes that looked back crinkled around the edges as their owner smiled at her. It wasn’t a patronising smile either. It was genuine and it was warm.
The woman crouched before her was plain, except for gleaming chestnut coloured hair that matched her eyes. She held a large paper cup in one hand, not unlike the one on the floor between them, except new. Her arm was extended; she was offering it to Lauren, who looked back at her questioningly.
“It’s hot chocolate,” The woman said. “From a little café close to here. Go on, you’ll like it.”
The stranger tilted her head slightly, and Lauren saw a flash of emerald green stones in her ears. She was suspicious, but there was no malice or mockery in the woman’s voice. Lauren unearthed her arm from the sleeping bag and took the cup. She could feel the heat from the liquid inside radiating outwards, promising good things.
“Enjoy. I think it’ll help.”
Before Lauren had a chance to thank the woman, she was gone. She didn’t dwell on this for long, however, for the enticing aroma of the drink had just reached her nose. The smell of melted chocolate and hot milk enveloped her. Lauren tipped the cup to her lips and, through the little pre-cut hole in the lid, greedily took her first sip.
An explosion of sweetness filled her mouth, yet the obviously high cocoa content stopped it from turning sickly. There was an edge of vanilla to it, and it was so silky. Its warmth was spreading through her entire body. She closed her eyes in delight and drank the rest of it slowly, savouring every drop. When the drink was finished, she opened her eyes again. She felt odd. Different. Invigorated.
A year later, Lauren hurried along the pavement. It was piercingly cold, and she had forgotten her gloves at home. Luckily, she wasn’t far from café now. She rounded a corner and felt her shoulder awkwardly catch another’s. She turned and immediately went to apologise, but stopped in her tracks. Even in the weak winter light, a glimmer of emerald nestled within strands of dark hair had caught her eye. There was a brief, knowing smile. Then, the stranger she had bumped into vanished in the opposite direction.
Lauren stood for a moment, trying to place where she had seen those earrings before. Eventually, she gave up and continued on her way. She was late for work.
