A perfect afternoon

12o'clock, the deli is busy. It is an overcast, wet, summer day. Businessmen come in, their shirts patterned with raindrops. Visually, the weather says: keep warm, but the air is sticky hot. In the deli the air conditioner battles the grill for control of the temperature. Orders are coming swiftly; they are interrupted when the room is plunged into unexpected darkness. Surprised customers and staff pause in their work. Power returns momentarily and activity resumes until if fails altogether. Work continues, slightly stilted until the lunch rush is over. It is fun to work in the dark, like secrets and intrigue. However, unneeded, I am dismissed early.
1pm, I step outside into the light rain. Heavier drops seep through my tshirt and it is refreshingly cool. I make the bus, skittering across traffic and slippery pavement. Watching the rainy streets and daydreaming I manage to miss my stop... and several past it. On the far side of the city I ask the driver where the bus actually finishes.
I am going to Glenelg.
I love the beach most on rainy days. The jetty stretches over shimmering grey satin. There is a breeze chilling the raindrops on my skin as I walk to the end. Jetty jumpers are enjoying the summer warmth and 2 optimistic fisherpeople are trying their luck but I feel like I have the whole ocean to myself. Cocooned by my earphones and Yann Tierson, I imagine I am on a ship, travelling to an older world. As I turn back to land, my mind suggests the possibility of one I love catching me unawares with an umbrella and a hug. I can be such a hopeless romantic in my imagination. I shake off the slight melancholy of that image as I walk back up the pier.
Childhood memories lead me to the Fairy Bay. My third birthday party was held in this tiny store and although damp and bedraggled, I ask the owner a few questions about becoming a professional fairy. She is enthusiastic and encourages me to apply. I leave with a smile and plans.
Around the corner is a vintage store. I ambitiously buy a slightly-too-small-but-gorgeous slip for half the asking price and drool over silver cowboy boots. They are my size and will become mine... when I can afford them.
3:15... It's time to leave now, I return to the bus stop but it is empty. Venturing into the second hand book store behind, a near new Paulo Coelho falls into my hands. As I step out, the bus arrives and I make my way home.