The sky went to a dreary grey
I was outside, not wanting to go home this early after watching the latest Marvel movie. So I headed for a cup of hot coffee, just a couple kilometers due north. I figured if the unfinished document mom had sent me earlier was given a green light for work, I needed someplace to get it done. After all, I had nothing else to do at home.
Treum. The café’s name shone brightly on a circular neon panel. It was placed so conspicuously that any passers-by can be made aware of its presence. And, the place is located just on a slightly downward curve. Hues of concealed orange neon strips and neatly arrayed potted plants with a tessellating arrangement provided the elevated floor a contrastingly vibrant nuance against its mostly white-and-grey façade. The blaring burrs of the coffee grinder indicate that my coffee is in the making.
Then, trickles of rain began to make their debut.
Sparse, but steady raindrop marks gradually darkened the once dry asphalt road. Umbrellas began to unfold, and concerned eyes looked upwards, wondering whether or not the nimbuses are only short-lived.
In 30 minutes, what seemed to be merely a drizzle now steadily progressed into a heavier shower. The timing could have been much better as the school has just ended around that time. On any other day, the schoolchildren would be gleefully waiting for their parents to pick them up in front of the school’s frontyard in those small, observing eyes. But now, parents on their motorcycles—clothed in their raincoat ponchos—arrived in front of the doors, locating their children’s whereabouts.
One father finally found his little one with his khaki school vest after some time. He hurriedly helped his daughter put on her jacket and guided his hands on the zippers. After having made sure the kid’s fitting was snug, he unfurled a small-sized neon-green-colored poncho and positioned it in a way that the hole part for the head was accessible.
One by one the children started to go home. Some of the parents didn’t arrive on the two-wheeled transportation. Others on foot, carrying umbrellas of all sorts of colors and sizes; some on their cars. One even came in a pickup, just like any pickup truck with the typical open cargo area, though the only noticeable thing was the cleanliness of it. It was spotlessly clean. Not a single dirt stained the backside, or any part of it for that matter. The owner was a slender-built dad who parents two similarly-aged kids. They then sat on the two-seated cabin and drove off.
The thing about being seated on the veranda (I do not know what the name of it, so pardon me) is that you can just look outside and observe all the people around you. The peddlers selling candies or sweets or any snacks that children are inherently programmed to like; the woman who weren’t dressed for the weather taking shelter under one of the leafy trees; the four-membered family riding one motorcycle who seemed to mind practicality more than convenience.
As I’m writing now, it’s not clear whether the rain will subside anytime soon. It’s the kind of circumstance where you need headlamp light in order to see whether or not it still rains. My cappuccino is still two-third empty, and if the day gets dark, I’ll just brave the full magnitude of the afternoon downpour.
ketikamalaspulang 