You had known this neighbourhood since you were a small child. Your parents would take you through it on the way to the beach. You watched it’s decline as you got older: stores closed, parks abused, everything grey and faded. It was perfect. There were apartments to be had, and at a cheap price. After a day or so of searching, you had found yours. It was perfect... well... you convinced yourself of that at least. Street facing, three story walk up over the only convenience store that had tenaciously held on in the neighbourhood. It faced an ancient coffee shop, that had also managed to survive. A good cleaning, A fresh coat of paint and your rather spacious one bedroom apartment was yours.

Rumours were started. Something about buildings changing hands, confirmed shortly thereafter by work crews, first doing demolition, then remodelling. The old coffee shop changed hands too. Taken over by two younger men, it seemed destined with it’s overstuffed seating and bistro tables to become one of those neighbourhood hubs that pundits for urban renewal seemed to gush over.

Life for you too was changing. No longer a student studying Literature and Thought, you were now part of the workforce. Making the 40 minute trek downtown everyday to ascend into one of the steel and glass towers to make a living helping customers understand their latest statement or providing other services. You enjoyed it. The people aspect definitely appealed to you.

The old neighbourhood was changing. The City replanted the trees that used to line the streets, the sidewalks were repaired and new signs were installed. Gossip entered the scene as the prices for the newly renovated buildings became known. Some were almost three times what you paid for rent. Your landlord offered some improvements for a modest rent increase, which the several tenants in your building accepted. Things seemed to be looking up.

Then one morning, running a little late, you popped into the Coffee Shop for your morning coffee and croissant. There was a line up. Something that had been happening more and more of late. You placed your order and paid for it, then, hearing the bus approaching the stop out front, spun around to sprint out and catch it. Instead, you collided coffee first with the man standing behind you.

Chaos erupted. Exclamations, the spreading stain of coffee on a white starched shirt, his quick movements to get the shirt soaked with hot coffee away from his skin... all punctuated with the sound of the bus driving off.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry!” you exclaim, hands fluttering trying to make the stain somehow better. Then the realization that your bus had just left...

“I’m going to be late too!”

“Andrew,” he said, motioning to the barista, “Round Two” gesturing at his shirt.

Andrew nodded and proceeded to refill your order and his.

“Now about getting you to work on time,” he said. His hot beverage in one hand, and your elbow gently in the other. You both approach the curb and a loud piercing whistle brings a cab pulling in front of you.

“Get her to work on time,” He says to the cab driver, flipping a twenty onto the front seat and closing the cab door behind you. The cab speeds off leaving your new found benefactor standing in the distance.

Several days pass before you see him again. Again, at the coffee shop. He is just leaving with his order as you enter. With a mischievous grin, he snaps up a menu and holds it as if it were a shield protecting him from you.

“Did you get to work on time?” he asks

“Yes, I did. Thanks to you. Can I repay you for the cab fare at least?”

“No need. Happy to help.” He replies and then adds “I’m John by the way.”

“Leah,” you respond blushing a little as he extends his hand towards you in a handshake. His hand is warm and dry and much bigger than yours.

“Enjoy your day, Leah,” he says, returning the menu to the pile and stepping outside.

The next three months are filled with casual, brief encounters with “John”. Head nods, cup salutes and brief commentary about life in general bring about a familiarity between the two of you. Always his greeting is filled with a smile, “Right up to his eyes” as your grandmother would say. Then came the invitation. The coffee shop was celebrating the anniversary of it changing hands to the new owners. All of the regulars were invited. It was going to be an evening of food, spirits and gratitude to the community for the businesses success.

You arrive midway through the evening from work. Andrew and Justin greet you as you enter, but the place is standing room only. The solid drizzle outside has seen to that. You see John across the room and catch his eye. He seems delighted to see you. You make your way over to him and you both make small talk working your way over to the buffet of appetizers laid out for the evening. You try and have a conversation around the plates of goodies you both carry and through the noise of the crowd. Finally, from behind him, he pulls out a large umbrella and says “Want to get some air?”

You nod and manage to grab two cups of something Justin had been offering everyone. It was warm, mulled something, but from the one sip you take, you’re glad you just live across the street.

The umbrella goes up and you find yourselves standing in the neighbour’s doorway, the umbrella protecting from the angled drizzle. The wind picks up a bit and he naturally turns to shield your body with his. The drink in your cup seems to be doing it’s intended job. You feel warm inside, you feel sexy and more important, you want this man, who is just inches from your face to find you sexy too. You continue to talk with him, taking tiny sips from your cup, angling your face up towards his... and there, it happens... now he’s kissing you. You snuggle in closer to him and kiss back.