The Race

My mission, which I had accepted, was to walk to the cafe at Namesti Miru before the rain began to fall. It was a twenty-five minute walk or thereabouts but the clouds above suggested I had about 20 minutes to do it in. But it didn't matter, there were various bail out points along the way in the shape of tram stops, so I probably wouldn’t get too wet. The sky was 50 shades of grey, a mottled, patchwork quilt of darkness and light. From fluffy, white, innocent clouds to dark, threatening, intimidating ones that dominated the skyline with their threat of violence and danger.

I quickened my pace, heading up the hill, the clouds were growing closer, darker, heavier, more foreboding. Large, individual drops of rain lashed the pavement, not enough for an umbrella but getting close to my limit. I was passing Krymska maybe I should bail out and get on a tram. But no, this was fun now. I felt a tinge of excitement as I left the safety of the tram stop and headed towards the darkness - in to the unknown. It was hot and humid, I was getting sweaty and short of breath. The wind whipped up thrashing through the trees. The dark clouds were teasing me gently; ready to punish me for showing insolence, for believing that I could defy them, but at the same time holding back giving me hope that I wouldn't be beaten by the rain. 

I arrived at the cafe, hot, breathless, exhausted but with a sense of relief and satisfaction. The promise of a nice cup of coffee and a spot of people watching made me pleased that I’d come.

Don’t forget you can find my #100daysofgrumpiness project here