The Agnostic Secretary - Prologue
Everyone jumped at the sound of the crashing crockery. But as the chatty cafe patrons turned their heads to see what the coffee shop guy had dropped, bodies froze in terror, eyes widened in disbelief, and jaws dropped open.
All eyes followed Temper as she moved further into the cafe, and marched over to the counter.
“Give me a coffee….make it strong” she demanded.
There was a further crash as the now empty tray dropped from the coffee shop guy’s numbed fingers. With shaking hands, he poured the hot drink then, shuffling through the scattered shards of broken mugs and teapots, he zombied towards Temper and carefully set the mug on the counter in front of her. Almost of its own volition, his arm slowly raised and he pointed a finger over Temper’s head….
“U---uh”… he stammered, “Th-there’s a….” He tried again. “Um…. you have a….” The coffee shop guy shook his head, braced himself and tried again. “How can I put this….y-y-you have…..uh… it’s raining….I mean… you’re… uh…. raining?” his voice faded away as Temper glared him into a quivering mass of silence. She surveyed the rest of the room with angry eyes – daring anyone else to speak up. No one did.
Suddenly she sighed - her shoulders drooping and head down. Staring eyes might have softened at the sight if it wasn’t for the mini rain-cloud. Imagine a cartoon stickman with a perfect little grey rain cloud painted a finger’s width above his head. This looked exactly like that.... except it was hovering over a tall angry red-head named Temper. A torrent of rain poured from the fluffy circle of grey. From time to time tiny sparks of lightning flashed and little growls of thunder emanated from the almost cheery darkness. So much rain! It poured and poured and poured - down over Temper’s long red hair, soaking every inch of her body, down to her rain-drenched sneakers. But there was no water puddling at her feet…. the water just seemed to stop, the floor remaining perfectly dry – it was mind-boggling….a miracle even.
Temper sighed again then picked up her cup and moved slowly towards the exit….the cloud followed her. She suddenly turned back. The cloud swished back matching her movements – still not spilling a single raindrop.
“How much do I owe you?” she asked the coffee shop guy.
“A dollar sevent…..uh…n-n-never mind. It’s on the house” he answered.
Temper nodded a curt thanks (rain-cloud dipping and rising with her head movements) and turned to leave.
“Wait!” yelled the coffee shop guy. She turned back and raised a quizzical brow. “Uh…I just gotta ask about the…um…well…I was just…uh… wondering about the….” He faltered again.
“My rain-cloud?” She asked dangerously.
He gulped. “Uh yeah….the r-r-rain cloud”
Temper gave the coffee shop guy a scathing glance. The coffee shop guy fainted. Her eyes slashed through the rest of the cafe customers’ gazes. They, as one, leaned back with a whimper.
“God’” she spat, “has a Ju-ve-nile sense of humour”.
With that, she and the little rain-cloud stormed through the door and moved out into the clear, starry night.
