The strong gusts of wind were unyielding, relentlessly tugging at her umbrella and sending her auburn locks whipping around her face. The ribbon that had held her hair in place was now loose and tangled, and she gave up trying to push it back. When she had left home that morning, the sun had been shining. Now, she wished she had grabbed a coat or a hat to shield herself from the change in weather. She could feel the dampness seep through her clothes as the rain continued to pour down on her. This was definitely not how she had envisioned her day going, but she knew she would have to make do with what she had.
As she fought against the gusts of wind, her footsteps quickened in a desperate attempt to find shelter from the storm. The streets were now barren and desolate, the only sounds echoing through the alley ways and narrow streets were that of the howling wind and the rhythm of raindrops on the cobblestones. With relief shining in her eyes, she spotted the lights of the Tea and Toast Café up ahead and made a beeline for it, nearly slamming into the door as she pushed it open.
The warmth of the cafe embraced her like a hug, immediately dispelling the chill she felt. She shook off the rain droplets from her coat and took in the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and buttery pastries wafting through the air. Making her way to an unoccupied table by the window, she sank into the seat and watched as the storm raged on outside.
A steaming cup of coffee was soon placed before her, accompanied by a generous slice of apple strudel dusted with icing sugar and topped with a dollop of Chantilly cream. The cake was amazing, the sharp tang of apple mingled perfectly with the sweet cream, causing her shoulders to relax visibly. She savoured each bite, enjoying both the indulgent treat and the respite from the chaos outside.
Lost in thought, she didn’t notice the stranger who had taken a seat at the table across from hers. The stranger had a mysterious air about him, with piercing eyes that seemed to look right through her. She felt a shiver run down her spine as he spoke in a low, smooth voice.
“Rough weather we’re having,” he remarked, with a trace of an accent, his eyes never leaving her.
She nodded in agreement, unsure of how to react to this sudden intrusion into her peaceful moment of solitude. The stranger leaned back in his chair, unperturbed by the storm raging outside and ignorant to her feelings.
“May I buy you another cup of coffee, or maybe you’d prefer tea?” he asked, the hint of an amused smile playing on his lips.
She hesitated for a moment, weighing the strange familiarity she felt with this man against her natural wariness of strangers. But something in his demeanour put her at ease, and she found herself nodding in acceptance. Who was he? She racked her brains; he seemed familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on where she had met him.
As the stranger signalled the waitress for more coffee, she found herself drawn to his enigmatic presence. There was an air of mystery about him that intrigued her, and she couldn’t help but wonder why he was having such an effect on her. Where did she know him from?
The rain continued to drum against the windows of the cafe. The stranger introduced himself as Alexander, a traveller passing through town on his way to unknown destinations. His eyes held a glint of adventure, igniting a virgin spark of wanderlust within her. She barely noticed the waitress bringing over coffee for them both, and Alexander moved to join her at her window table, his body filling the space in front of her, unwittingly demanding her attention, as she took in a plethora of details. The striped Gant shirt, the pocket watch hanging from his waistcoat, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. That smile seemed too familiar. She dragged her mind back to his words. Something about a book he had recently re-read and realising that she had read the same trilogy.
As they chatted over cups of coffee, she found herself opening up to him in a way she never had with anyone before. He listened intently, his gaze never wavering from her face as if every word she uttered was a precious secret he needed to unravel. Time seemed to blur as they talked, lost in their own little bubble within the confines of the cafe. Alexander shared tales of his travels, of far-off places that seemed like figments of her imagination. She found herself hanging onto his every word, transported to distant shores through the imagery he painted with his storytelling. In return, she told him about growing up in this northern British town, talking of gems known only to locals, her love of history. She also spoke of her dreams of travelling beyond the borders of her familiar surroundings, but never quite making it, apart from the annual summer expedition to warmer climes, whether that be Cornwall or the continent.
Before she knew it, the storm outside had dwindled to a patter. The rain fell in plops against the window, and the clouds slowly parted, revealing a sliver of sunlight that illuminated the room. She didn’t want this moment to end, the peacefulness and intimacy between them almost palpable. She did not want him to go. He made her feel as though she was the only girl in the world. A cliché she knew, but nobody had ever made her feel that way. She knew that they had met before but just when she thought she remembered, the words fell away from her tongue, and she was none the wiser.
He continued to talk, this time describing a plate of prawns, heated in a spicy sauce and even described the ceramic dish in which they had been served. She was reminded of a holiday in Spain, the sizzle of the prawns, the spice of the Picanto sauce on her tongue. She remembered that holiday, the one where she was meant to have gone with her boyfriend, but they had broken up the month before and she had just decided to go on holiday by herself regardless.
Just as she was about to suggest they continue their conversation elsewhere, his expression shifted. His eyes grew distant, like a curtain closing on a beautiful scene. The warmth around her seemed to dissipate, replaced by an uneasy tension.
“I’m afraid our time together is drawing to a close,” he said softly, his gaze fixed on something in his mind’s eye.
She furrowed her brow in confusion, not wanting to let go of the connection she felt with this stranger. “But why?” she asked, a hint of desperation in her voice.
Alexander’s gaze softened as he met her eyes once more. “There are forces at play beyond our control,” he explained cryptically. “We are but fleeting souls crossing paths in the grand tapestry of life, brought together by a set of circumstances beyond our control.”
She felt a pang in her chest at his words, a sense of loss gripping her heart. She didn’t want their encounter to be just a passing moment, a mere blip in the vast expanse of time. As she searched for the right words to say, Alexander reached across the table and took her hand in his. His touch was warm and comforting, sending a jolt of electricity through her veins. Did love at first sight really exist? In that moment, it certainly seemed that way.
“Remember this moment, cherish it as I will,” he said softly, his voice laced with emotion. “Our meeting may be brief, but its impact will linger long after we have left this table.”
With a heavy heart, she felt like an idiot, unable to control the tears welling up in her eyes, their warmth spilling down her cheeks as she gazed into Alexander’s soulful eyes. A sense of profound understanding passed between them, as if they were two halves of a whole destined to meet briefly before being torn apart by the cruel hands of fate. She clutched his hand tightly, unwilling to let go of this connection that felt deeper and more meaningful than anything she had ever experienced.
As the last remnants of the storm faded away outside, leaving behind a world washed clean by the rain, she made a silent vow to carry this moment with her forever. Alexander’s words echoed in her mind like a haunting melody, stirring something profound within her soul. She had read about soulmates, even about twin flames, before. But she had always disregarded this as part of some hippy-dippy nonsense, put away in the drawer of her mind that contained horoscopes and tarot cards.
But as she sat there, hand in hand with the enigmatic Alexander, she couldn’t shake off the feeling that maybe, just maybe, there was some truth to those beliefs. Their connection felt deep, as if they had known each other for lifetimes instead of mere moments in the passage of time. She gazed into his eyes, trying to memorise every detail, every fleck of gold in his irises. Once again, she was consumed with that feeling of knowing. She had met him before; she was certain of it. Those gold flecks, but where?
A sudden commotion at the entrance of the cafe broke their reverie. A group of teenagers burst in, laughing, and shaking off raindrops from their umbrellas. The spell was broken, and Alexander stood up slowly, releasing her hand with a gentle squeeze.
“I must be going,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But remember, our encounter was not by chance. It was meant to be. This is not the first time we have met, and it will not be the last. I am equally confident that we will meet again one day.”
She frowned at his words, but before she could respond, he turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the street outside. She sat there for a moment, instinctively believing his words, knowing deep down that somehow one day he would return into her life. She looked down at the table and saw that he had left a token on the table. She picked it up. It was a small keyring, shining bright with the colours of the Mediterranean, a small gecko on a silver chain. She thought about his accent, his olive skin, and dark eyes, and wondered if this came from his homeland.
She left the cafe, having settled the bill, with the mosaic still in her hand. She crossed the street, intent on walking down to the bus stop, but stopping when she came face to face with a big advertisement for Barcelona in the window of the travel agency. She looked at the mosaic gecko in the advertisement and looked down at the one in her hand. If they were not the exact same, they were very similar. She thought about his dark eyes with their flecks of gold, his hair dark but greying around the temples, his faint accent. Barcelona? She had only been in Barcelona last year, on that holiday, eating prawns. She thought about that holiday. Lots of sightseeing, and she had gone to a pottery class near Parc Güell. She had been inspired had she been with all the mosaic decorations that adorned the city, and her tour guide Jorge had recommended the Studio to her. She looked down at the keyring, and it was then that she remembered.
The man who had been working in the next studio, the walls a riot of colour with pottery and mosaics. They had exchanged a few words as he had been glazing a tea pot and they had shared a joke about the British and their obsession about tea. She remembered his long white shirt, and denim shorts and the smooth leather sandals. His hair dark, greying around the temples, the dark eyes flecked with gold. She let forth a huge exhale, realising she had been holding her breath, as her mind travelled this surreal journey, from her north Yorkshire village to the Catalan capital. Surreal yes, insurmountable no. She looked back down at the gecko in her hand, feeling its physicality in her hand. Alexander. Barcelona. And before doubt could strangle any of her thoughts, she instinctively opened the door, marched into the travel agency, and said, “I’d like a ticket to Barcelona please!”