With her backpack on her shoulder, she pushed open the café door with a sigh of relief. She’d made it! It had been a long arduous journey. Her bare feet were weary after trekking along the beach for days, following her natural instincts to reach her destination. Feeling the tiled floor deliciously cool under her hot feet, she made her way to the only remaining empty table then lowered herself down onto the pine chair.
At the next table, there was a young girl sitting nursing a latte looking as exhausted as she felt. The girl’s clothing was caked in mud and there were twigs and leaves in her tangled ponytail.
Beyond her sat an agitated middle-aged man who was staring down at a map muttering, “This can’t be right “ over and over again.
To her left an old lady sat primly drinking a cup of tea from a bone china cup, complete with matching saucer, her finely wrinkled face awash with relief. At her feet, a small white dog with a blue collar lay curled up asleep.
Over at the table in the corner, a man sat heating his hands on a mug of soup. Beside him were skis and boots, both leaving icy puddles on the tiled floor.
In the opposite corner sat a runner, sweat running down his forehead into his eyes as he drank thirstily from a sports bottle.
They had all made it to the café, no matter what route their journeys had taken them.
Setting her backpack down on the floor, she let out a low groan of relief at the removal of the weight from her slender sunburnt shoulders.
Glancing up, she saw a waitress approaching, her welcoming smile melting away her exhaustion and warming her heart.
“Honey,” she began as she turned to a fresh page in her notepad. “What can I get you?”
“A lemonade would be good, thanks.”
“Anything to eat? You look like it’s been a tough trek to get here.”
Suddenly realising she was ravenous, she said, “Pizza, please. A pepperoni pizza.”
“Coming right up,” promised the waitress, noting the order in her pad. “Oh, where are my manners! Welcome to There. Everyone gets here eventually.”
Coral McCallum 