The Getaway

Carrying the broken violin on her back, she had been running for hours not knowing where she was going. All she wanted was to go far far away and never be found again. Her family never understood that music was her love and she, a devotee.

It had gotten dark and the only light there was, was from the frail street lamps that looked as if they would die any minute, the only sound was the chirping of the cockroaches from the little shrubs along the pavement.

Exhausted from the run, her limbs were now starting to give way. Hoping for a miracle or a car, she slumped down on the sidewalk when she saw a peculiar looking car with bright blue headlights coming her way.

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She sat there in her favorite corner, relishing her favorite – hot chocolate with a dash of  shimmers extracted from stars. The crisp smell of freshly baked wild-spirited cookies and mouth-melting pastries tickled her nose. The place was alien yet she felt at home. It was crowded but there was this serenity in the air that kept her warm inside out.

There were people everywhere – people who came from different places, different backgrounds, even different worlds but had one thing in common – their love for art. Its strange how art connects you on levels you can’t comprehend, she thought as she took another sip of the delectable drink.

What were just some old ruins and remains of a building in a deserted part of town was actually this place with all its magic inside. This transcendent place seemed to be in a completely different realm – hidden from the eyes and minds of the ordinary.

With huge racks of neatly arranged books in one corner, musical instruments of all sorts in another and all the elements needed for painting in the third one, the cafe seemed to be a sanctuary for the ones who breathed art.

There were plush chairs for writers in their corner where they sat and discussed various authors and their works with an endless supply of coffee and cookies that were sprinkled with fernweh. A group of teenagers sat on the velvet floor cushions and devoured pastries glazed with hygge as they discovered their vibrant personalities through their music and then there were beautifully crafted stools for the painters who loved playing with colors. Near them were decanters full of lemonade laced with wabi-sabi.

And behind the counter was Isabella, the violet-eyed girl with long silver hair. A fairy tale for the ordinary and a reality for the gifted ones; the keeper of this magical place. If it hadn’t been her that day in the car, Sarah wouldn’t have ever found this place- her safe haven – Cafe Illusion.