A drizzly day in Fremont, and a steaming cup of green tea. Thoroughly moist and chilled, I duck into a coffee-shop and watch the passersby rush through the rain. My hair, already damp from the morning, now swathes my face in its mischievous tendrils. As jazzy tunes lazily play in the background, I subtly observe the customers who wait out of the rain. Two delivery men grab a quick drink and rush back out to their truck, parked illegally. A sullen young woman sits reading behind me, having just indignantly finished a phone call, which by her body language, went poorly. Nervously bouncing between laptop and textbook, a student bites her nails, anxious either about finals, or facebook (or both. Who knows?). A middle aged couple chatters loudly in their overstuffed armchairs, evidently reminiscing about things deep, things amusing, shared memories of days gone by. The rain has cleared, and the sun makes an effort to show itself. Appreciative, the pedestrians begin to reemerge from their places of refuge and continue on their way, slower now. You can almost see them savoring the sights, the smells, the sounds. Ever steady, the wind blows off the water, bringing in a peroxide blonde tourist and her luggage. The store greets her and her immense, rolling baggage with appraising glances. Embarrassed, she blushes a becoming shade of pink and posthaste, orders her drink and leaves. An elderly man in a baseball cap who carries himself (and admittedly, somewhat resembles a turtle) has been saying something to himself in sign language for some time. Now he sits still, an enormous grin on his face as he reads a battered looking piece of paper with large, round glasses. AH. The girl behind me is upset because she has to read several hundred pages of Tolstoy for class tomorrow. She has cheered up immensely with a phone call from a more sympathetic friend. (glances over at cup) Tepid tea. Time to head out to find adventure.