Rain in the winter was not like rain in any other part of the year. In the late summer, rain could actually be hot, as in you could stand in and be heated rather than be cooled. In the fall, rain was scarce, and never without wind to turn the droplets into stinging shards of pain. In spring, it was a welcome source of humidity, after all the dryness of previous months.
Only in winter, rain froze and chilled to the bone if it didn’t form into cold snow or frigid sheets of ice; rain was something to be avoided at all costs.
Which is why Frederick Chilton was rushing across the street; not fast enough to be running but not carefree enough to be walking. Strong blows of wind were ruffling his suit, his tie flapping in the wind along with his formerly gelled back hair. Heavy drops of rain were pattering and pounding against his dark umbrella and the asphalt ground around with such ferocity, they almost sounded angry. They were certainly angering him. Besides the fact that nobody likes being out in rain, there was also the simple fact that he hated wet clothes No feeling, short of physical pain, was worse than thoroughly soaked clothes to the sanctimonious psychiatrist.
Chilton walked into the quaint shop hearing the bells jingle as he opened the glass door. Taking a few gaspy breaths and clutching his extravagant cane with one hand as he walked in he must have made quite a sight, His usually slicked back hair was windswept and sticking up at odd angles. His checkered suit was open, exposing his white undershirt that had clung to his skin from the rain. His golden tie clip had slipped down his dark harlequin tie and he looked quite the mess.
After collecting his breath and collecting a few stares from other customers he folded up his umbrella and let out a huff as he stood in the line that met just in front of the door. Darting his eyes around as he tapped his manicured nails against his dark pants Chilton locked his dark eyes with a baker's maroon before flicking them away as he started to feel uneasy and rude from staring. Swallowing and re-buttoning his suit as he moved up to the table he realized that he should have thought of what he was going to order before he reached the front of the line.
"What can I get for you, sir?" droned a curly haired barista already placing a hand on the cash register.
"Oh, um," Mumbled Chilton as he flashed his eyes at the chalkboard menu and received an annoyed glance from the brunet barista who now that Frederick was looking at him had really great bone structure and blue eyes; Like really, really great.
"Medium Cafe Brave," the doctor blurted looking down at the greenish-blue of the barista's eyes "oh, and a vegan brownie, please."
"Yes please," Chilton replied politely.
The barista huffed and reached over to grab a plastic cup from a towering stack under the table and a sharpie from his pocket.
Standing up straight and slightly puffing his chest out the ostentatious doctor opened his mouth and gave the blue-eyed barista his name.
" Dr. Frederick Chilton," He said, lost in the buzz of his pride.
The barista’s hand stilled as he most likely rolled his eyes, hovering the sharpie over the surface of the plastic cup. He raised his head up and the Chilton before scrawling the name onto the cup.
"Three seventy-five," The barista replied lowly as he finished writing Frederick's name on the cup as he held a hand out and wiggled his fingers for the money.
Frederick handed over the money -and threw a whole ten dollar bill into the tip jar - before going over and leaning on a brick styled wall as he waited for his coffee. Raking a hand through his hair Chilton realized how messy he looked and fervently slicked it back with his hands fruitlessly trying to make it look normal.
Hearing his name be called Frederick saw his coffee be slid across the table along with a brown paper bag that housed his brownie. He grabbed both the coffee and the paper bag in one hand and held his umbrella with the other as he hailed a taxi.
It wasn't until he had almost reached his destination, he noticed how his name was written on the cup.
"Frederdick Chilton", it read.
Squeezing the cup so hard some coffee ran over on to his already ruined suit he knew he had to go back to that cafe and have a word with that barista.