Why would someone prefer tea to coffee? That's just hilarious.

Maybe if you're a little child, of course, tea has to be your main thing.

But as you grow, I doubt you'd want to taste it ever again.

The curious young lady staring down at me waited patiently for my response to her question. I moved my gaze to the menu to be sure they had my favorite type as I ran my hands through my black, thick curls.

Sighing, I skimmed through the menu. Finding what I had desired to taste this lovely afternoon, I smiled at the lady and pointed at it for her to see it.

"Cappuccino?" I nodded, giving her a slight smile. "Would you like it with cinnamon or cocoa powder?" I glanced at her blankly. I had just pointed at the cinnamon cappuccino, what more did she want from me?

Realization hitting her, she walked away, briskly showing nervousness. I rolled my eyes and rested my back on the chair, rubbing my hands repetitively on my jeans to stop my hands from itching.

Ever since I woke up in the morning, I'd been having this allergy that affected my right hand. I had no idea where it came from; we only moved in yesterday, so I wasn't expecting much trouble from here.

Looking at my palm, I noticed the redness that was already forming. I sighed and placed it down on the wooden table. It had a little sense of chill, so it calmed the itchiness from my hand.

I took a look at the surrounding outside, it wasn't much of a busy street, but people had carts and shops around, some filled with customers, while others made their owners bored of the non-existence of a single buyer.

I chuckled seeing a young girl tapping and pleading with her mother to at least buy her the gorgeous looking doll that was hanging from the top of one of the carts.

From the little display the girl showed, a question popped into my head, were dolls our only friends when we were younger?

They were always made pretty and had us spend most of our days dressing them up to make them fit the crowd like we never did. Well, that's what I had heard from an adult one time.

But mine? I treated them differently. I hate to admit this, but I didn't care how I treated them till now. I hardly dressed them, neither talked to them. The only thing that I had grown to love was the small iPad my mum gave me.

I got more used to technology than any parent would have wanted their child to be, but for my mum, it was like she saw my fate before I did.

Glimpsing at the little girl, I smiled as she jubilated for the doll that her mum bought for her. Holding her mother's hand, she walked away, jumping happily.

The sound of someone clearing her throat caught my attention. It was the waitress from earlier.

Putting down the brown coffee cup, I grasped it immediately to make sure it was the exact way I liked it. Tasting it, I got satisfied because it had the exact taste as the one I usually got from Italy. I gave her a smuggled smile, and I can swear that she released a breath that she didn't know she was holding.

Being new here was a lot of work, I didn't even know this place, yet I felt the need to come to explore the city.

It wasn't far from the apartment my mum and I shared, so coming didn't give me much pressure. I needed some fresh air and time to think things through and view the city that never slept, New York.

She sauntered over to the next customer, who was busy reading a newspaper. Lol, someone, please tell me, when did teenagers my age start reading newspapers?

Making eye contact with the young specimen, I averted my eyes to the coffee in front of me.

Holding it this time, I felt a little pain slip through my hand. I groaned, knowing the reactions had started, rashes had already emerged on my palm. Trying to squeeze my hand into a fist, I winced loudly, causing the guy reading the newspaper to gaze at me.

Swearing more than fifty times in my head, I had no idea when he had walked up to me. Taking my hand into his, he asked. "May I?"

His calm voice radiated through my body. I didn't know how to describe it but it was just soft and made me feel calm. His words were simple but said a lot. The only thought that ran through my mind at that point in time was the hair that covered my eyes.

The scent of the cologne he had lingered in my nose for long. It's not that I was complaining, it just had the smell of the thing I loved the most, cinnamon. His hair smelt like it too, but more like, he had just come out of the shower.

Calling out for one of the waiters, he asked for an ice pack to put on my hand. When one of them had gone to get it, he blew cold air from his breathe to ease the pain.

There was something about him that seemed familiar. It was just weird but my heartfelt something, not love but rather like I had known him from somewhere, a long time ago.

I needed him to raise his head. I needed to at least see his full features. Then what?

I removed my hand from his quickly and got up from where I was sitting. He raised his head and looked at me with an arched eyebrow. I stared deeply into his eyes, too, because those were the first thing that caught my attention. They were blue and bright.

I wanted to swim in a sea, a deep one, and feel those things good girls felt, or were writers exaggerating about that shit? I'd hate to hear that because that put my hopes up.

His eyes searched my whole body, maybe being confused at the act I had just displayed. Clearing his throat, I knew he must have noticed that I was still staring at him, but the usual me was always curious, so I kept myself busy again.

Maybe if I couldn't get it from one feature, I could get it from the other, right? I chuckled, yet stayed tuned. Diverting my eyes to his nose, it was a bit pointy and crooked. For a second, I thought it was a finger pointing at me for something I had done wrong, and maybe it was offended by the way I stared at it.

Still, there was nothing. I couldn't get anything from the nose. No hope. No happiness or even an inch of a smile to pop up. Feeling defeated, I said, "I'm fine. It's just a little allergy."

I picked up the coffee cup from the table with my left hand, not sparing him a glance. I strolled towards the counter, paid for the coffee, and strolled out of the shop immediately.

I sipped the coffee slowly, loving the way it went down my throat and coaxed me to want to taste more of it.

I pulled the hoodie of my jumper over my head and walked with pace back to the apartment. Upon reaching it, I entered the elevator and pressed number four, knowing that my mum and I stayed on the fourth floor. I placed my hand on its wall, considering it would calm the pain I was feeling on my palm.

Once the bell rang, the doors opened, making me step out while a lady entered. Finding Room 128, I knocked on the door, waiting for my mum to open it. A slim and tired woman opened the door slowly to see who was outside. Seeing me, she let me in and shut the door. I turned around to gaze at her. Stress was fully getting to her, I knew it wasn't easy for her, yet she managed always to smile.

The gorgeous black hair that I was fortunate to get from her was in a mess; each strand was standing up. She yawned, making me know that she had just woken up. Her usual intense brown eyes were losing its intensity the more she stressed herself up, but she didn't know. Besides, I get her. Being a single mum wasn't as easy as we all thought.

Sometimes when people told me I was a replica of her, I got scared. Not in a mean way, but because it was true, I used her as my mirror some days. We shared the same color of eyes just that mine were brighter, the shape of our nose was the same, I knew I had gotten my hairy body from her, and we cherished our dark-brown skin.

"You didn't tell me you were going out," she said with a weary, yet calm voice.

I looked away and contemplated with myself, I wanted to walk out on her, but I couldn't even grasp so much energy to do so. African parents do not allow you to portray such behavior in front of them.

I sighed, speaking up, "I felt like I needed fresh air."

"And you wanted to get away from me because I haven't had time for you, isn't it?"

"Mum-"

"Adelia, you don't need to. What I'm doing isn't even right," gazing at me with a worried look, she continued, "I promise that I'll find time for us to go out and explore this city-" before she could continue, there was a knock on the door. We both stared at each other, not expecting anyone today.

Going to get the door, she peeped through the small hole to see who it was. Gazing back at me, she opened it slowly to let the person outside into the apartment.

Wow, I put a lot of energy into this chapter. I didn't want to bore you guys with a dull or dry section, including the fact that it's chapter one. Phew, but here you go. I hope you loved it.

What do you mostly tend to do when you have an allergy? I always end up ranting, even though I'm supposed to be crying about the little damage it has done to my skin. What about you?

Kindly leave it as an inline comment over here 👉.

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VCS!!
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