Today—today was different, like yesterday and the day before. The air was cool, soft, indulgent—like the misty breeze of the hills. He usually avoided stepping out during the day. The sun, after all, came in three degrees in this city in this afternoon - Hot, Hotter, and Hell. It could bake his lips into over-crisped pizza crusts, turn his nose into a tiny furnace stack, and melt his ears like wax dripping from a candle.
But today, he parked his car in front of the restaurant and actually stepped out.
The breeze wrapped around him, a rare, unexpected gift. He smiled, stretching his arms as if to embrace it.
Inside, he enjoyed his lunch—not rushed, not just functional, but truly enjoyed. He shared his joy in every WhatsApp group he was in.
"Perfect breeze today. If only life had a ‘pause' button."
"Expect the unexpected," came a reply.
After lunch, he walked to the dessert counter, grabbed a cone, and filled it with swirls of vanilla and chocolate, sculpting it into the perfect Eiffel Tower of ice cream. Holding the cone in one hand and his phone in the other, he considered taking a selfie but decided—better outside, under this dreamy weather.
He stepped toward the exit, pushing the heavy glass door open with his shoulder.
Nothing.
He pushed harder. It resisted.
He tried again. A slight movement. A glimpse of hope.
He pushed with the same effort—no result. Even hope shifts and changes.
Bracing himself, he shoved harder, then harder. The door inched open, more and more—until suddenly, with one final push, it flung wide open.
And he stumbled straight into chaos.
The perfect breeze was gone. Outside, a gust of wind howled, swallowing him whole, tossing him like a loose leaf.
The storm had no mercy. It twisted and spun, making him part of its madness. Unbalanced. Off course. He flailed, desperate. Hands searching, praying for something—anything—to hold onto.
His cap flew off. His hair whipped wildly. His phone slipped from his grip, crashing onto the pavement.
One foot slipped. His legs tangled. His breath hitched. He grabbed onto a street railing—a moment of salvation.
He steadied himself, pulling free from the storm, watching the dust swirl in a frenzy. Can life flip in an instant—like this? He laughed.
Then, slowly, as if none of it had happened, he raised the ice cream cone to his lips.
The Eiffel Tower on top was still intact.
He licked it. Cold. Sweet. Perfect.
Outside, the wind raged on.
With sticky fingers and tousled hair, he walked to his car—savoring the moment, one lick at a time.