Chad stood on the very edge of the grass with a cup of coffee in one hand and a paper bag with a croissant in the other. He was fearful of the park. Was he sure he wanted to do this? Absolutely not! But was he serious about doing anything to please Terry? Yes. Was he so desperate to have his writer's block brought down by a bulldozer? Most certainly, but Chad wasn't fortunate enough to get carried away with fantasies. He stood there feeling a gust of wind push him towards the park as if it were a hand nudging him ahead. At least that's how he took it that chilly June morning, that he had a friend coaxing him to treading on into unknown territory.

Chad squared his shoulders and moved ahead, telling himself it was only a conversation, and Terry had never specified how long the conversation had to be to qualify. So he would approach the bench, knock twice and wait for a response. If the girl was there, he'd be civil, say hi, and give her the peace-offerings, and then wish her a pleasant day and walk away. If she wasn't there, then he had at least tried and his conscience would be clear.

As planned, he walked up to the bench and looked around consciously, to see if anyone was taking a keen interest in what he was doing. They weren't, in fact, nobody was looking at him. He cleared his throat and spoke. "Hello? Are you there?"

He waited cautiously, hoping the girl would not jump at him again, but nothing. "Hello? The girl I almost hit with my bag the other week?" He felt silly calling out. He walked around and peered under the bench where the shrubbery had a little pocket an adult could easily fit into. It was empty, and oddly, he felt a pang of sadness. He wasn't sure why.

He sat on the bench and slowly picked at the food he'd brought for 'her', and drank the coffee, staring at his café, and towards his window seat. How long had he been going there? Seven years? Eight? Why hadn't he ever looked across at the park, to that bench? Or noticed the people who called it home?

That morning, Chad didn't feel like writing and it had nothing to do with his block and everything to do with the girl and the guilt he felt. He had a home to go to, and this girl, whoever she was, wherever she was, didn't have a place that was safe, sound and warm. He shivered as a gust of wind snaked through the park, slithering across his face with its silky touch that chilled his bones.

He threw the rubbish in the nearest bin and headed for the street, disappearing into the throng of office-goers, head hung low, wondering what happened to the girl with the beautiful brown eyes. That day, he couldn't stop thinking about her. Even when Setal rang later that afternoon, he had barely paid attention. He'd hung up, and he wasn't even sure he'd said goodbye. Instead, he sat on his lonely couch till the sunset, and took himself to bed, wondering, always wondering. What is she doing now? Why is she homeless? What happened?

Next morning, he stood outside the café way before Tylor got there. The whole time Tylor went about setting up for the day, Chad kept an eye at the quiet park. "Pack two croissants and two coffees, will you Tylor?" he asked, eventually.

"Found your muse?" Tylor joked.

"I'm not sure what I've found."

When Tylor had the coffee machine ready, he popped out Chad's order and watched him leave as Laila entered, turning the 'Open' sign as Chad passed her.

He could hear Tylor ask, "You know what's gotten into him?" as the door closed behind him.

Chad wished he knew too. Alas, there he was, with two coffees and croissants in hand, waiting for the light to turn so he could go make a fool of himself once more. He hoped she was there today, under that bench so he could strike her off the list of things to do. The thought of finding her under that bench, in the cold, huddled perhaps to keep her warm, however, had a part of his heart wring in pain and anger. No one should have to live like that. No one.

♡

He stood with coffees in hand in front of the bench where he'd met the homeless girl. He peered under it and found it empty once more. He sat down, a little glum, and glanced under the bench every so often.

"Lost something, did ya?" a slurred, lazy voice asked and Chad looked up at a haggard old man hidden behind a bushy salt and peppered beard. Another homeless, though he looked nice and warm under the heavy layers of multiple jackets.

Chad shook his head. "Someone, actually."

The man nodded, a certain foul stench coming off him as he stepped closer. He eyed the two coffees in Chad's hands. "She hasn't come around for a week now," he offered.

"Who?"

"The girl who sometimes lives under there."

"You know her?"

The man nodded. "Is that for her?"

Chad looked at his hands. He had brought her an extra-hot coffee. He handed the cup over; someone may as well drink it. "Do you know where she is?"

The man took sips of the coffee, savouring the taste and ignoring his question.

Chad reached into his satchel and proffered the pastry bag. "I also had these for her..." And before he knew it, the bag had somehow left his hands.

He watched the man sit next to him and devour a croissant within seconds, in frenzy. With a mouthful of pastry, he spoke. "We don't always stay in the same place, you know."

Chad nodded. "Do you know where she is?"

A bite into the second pastry. "Why you looking for her, anyway?"

"I wanted to apologise for the other day."

The man laughed, choking on his food. "No one apologizes to a homeless, mate."

"I do."

The old man looked long and hard at Chad as he finished his second croissant and his coffee. He spoke again. "She's at the shelter 'cause she isn't good you know. Cold does that."

The man eyed the coffee in Chad's hand, and he handed that over too.

"You really want to see her, hey?"

Chad nodded, eyeing the people glancing at them as they walked past, towards their work.

"You gonna come again and bring her food?"

Chad sighed and nodded.

"She'll be here tomorrow, most probably." With that, the man left, walking down the park as suddenly as he'd appeared.

♡

To Chad, it felt déjà vu the next morning sitting in the park with no coffee nor breakfast left to himself, and yet no change in the company that gladly chowed down the morsels. "I thought you said she'd be here today."

"What do I look like? Her PA?" The man huffed and walked away. "Maybe she'll be here tomorrow, or the next day, ya know!"

Chad groaned quietly, but he was back at Tylor's the next morning, and the next, ordering three coffees and three croissants, hoping against hope the girl would be there that day, so he could cross her off his list of challenges.

On one such morning, as he walked out of the café and stood at the lights, wondering how many more mornings he would do this, someone stood beside him, too close for his liking. He was about to turn and ask them for personal space when the person spoke. It was a voice he'd heard before.

"Bax pulled one on you, didn't he?"

Chad turned to look at the woman he'd been searching for over a week. Her face still half-hidden behind a scarf and a beanie, and again, he wondered what she looked like beneath it.

"So why are you looking for me?"

The crossing lights came on and the hoard of people walked past them, annoyed at the two obstacles in their way. They stood their ground, however. "I..." Chad was for once stumped for a line. Instead, he held out the tray of coffees towards her. "I got you these."

She eyed the assortments with a faint smile that creased the corner of her eyes. "Is this a peace-offering for almost bashing my head in with your 'valuable' bag the other day?"

Chad nodded. It was. Let's not lie.

She took a coffee off the tray and clasped it with both her shaking hands. "Sorry about Bax as well."

Chad nodded once more, lost for words.

"So was that it?" she asked, pulling down her scarf to take a sip and a gentle smile crossed her lips. For a moment, it made him forget everything deterring about her. "Thank you," she said. "He told me what you've been doing for him."

"I was... looking for you," he finally managed.

"I knew you could speak!"

He nodded, again. It seemed Chad had no social skills left. Or it may have been his nerves.

"So what now?" she asked.

He remembered the croissants and fished them out of his bag, the same bag that had fallen on her. "I also had these." He offered her the pastry bag and an extended hand. "I'm Chad."

The girl glared at his proffered hand, astonished. "Who are you?"

"I told you." He turned as the lights came on. "Come on. Bax is waiting for his breakfast. The man gets cranky, otherwise." The girl followed him across with a laugh.

Chad watched as Bax and the girl ate and drank. Bax looked on at Chad's bag. "You got anything else in there, mate?"

The girl spun to scold him. "Bax! He's already been kind enough to bring you these."

Bax shrugged and stood up. "No harm in asking." He slapped Chad's back and walked away towards the other side of the park, done with his breakfast.

Chad stared after the man a while. "Where does he go every morning?"

The girl shrugged. "He says he likes to chase the sun." She watched the area where Bax had disappeared. "It's the only way to get warm. That, or running, and I don't think he likes running."

"Nobody likes running." Chad felt a pang of guilt again. Maybe it was to do the things they didn't have, like having a heater, or a house. Or clean clothes...

"Thank you for breakfast," she interrupted his thoughts.

He half-smiled at her. "It was the least I could do."

"Why?" she asked. "You don't owe me or us anything."

It was the bluntest and the most honest anyone had ever been with him. It kind of took him by surprise. Not even Terry was as blunt, and he expected nothing less from her in the eight years he'd worked with the editor.

"Most people don't even look our way..." she was saying, her voice getting smaller with each word.

Chad shrugged. It wasn't a big deal to him. "I wouldn't have come back looking for you if it wasn't for someone telling me to do it," he said as honestly as he could. It was the least he could offer for her honesty. "I keep to myself, you see."

"Well, I'm glad someone told you to find me, whatever their reason might have been." She smiled, rising to her feet. She looked towards Bax's exit. "I should go check on him. He's upset about the whole thing."

Chad immediately rose. His intention had been anything but friendly. "Why? What did I do?"

"You were kind, Chad," she said his name reverently, and it sent his cheeks flushing red hot in self-awareness. "We don't get kindness in such abundance, and he doesn't know how to thank you for the past week."

"I only did it for two reasons." He shifted his weight. "He could do with breakfast, and I hoped he'd show me where you were."

She smiled. "Which was very kind of you."

Chad's phone interrupted them, and he held up his hand apologetically to answer the call.

The girl waited till he ended the call, and said, "I have to go find him. Have a great day, Chad. It was nice to meet you."

Chad watched her walk away, unsure about his feelings; they felt mixed, part relief, part forlorn. He'd done it, talked to the girl like Terry had asked, and now he could walk away. Case closed. But that departure didn't feel like closure to him. He turned and walked down Elizabeth Street, lost in thoughts. Why didn't it feel done, finished, ready to cross off his invisible list?

The next morning, Chad arrived much later to the café and his corner seat was taken. He sat at another table, ordered his usual, and took out a notepad and pen. He hadn't found a topic to write about yet, but he was hoping. He'd wasted an entire week doing things that had made him uncomfortable, including a chat with the homeless girl. Now it was time to write.

He sat there with a blank page on the table, a pen twirling in his hand and a fast-draining cup of coffee in front of him, wishing hard for words to find him. He sat there almost the whole morning, staring out at the park, unable to get any work done. The page remained blank. The pen remained new, and he remained forever distracted. He couldn't even eat his breakfast without seeing Bax's shivering hands reach for his coffee or chomp on his breakfast like a starved child.

That was it. That image sent him packing his things and approaching Tylor at the counter, which he rarely did these days. He ordered what he'd been ordering the past week, and took himself across the park, towards the bench once more. When he got there, Bax was still waiting, head hung, shoulders slouched. That was until he heard Chad approaching. The man's happiness had more to do with the food and coffee than Chad himself, but it brought a smile to his face.

"You're late!" Bax reached for the coffee tray Chad held out.

Chad chuckled as he sat on the other end of the bench. "Where is she?"

Bax shrugged. "Lady business. Maybe she'll be along in a bit, though she told me to stop waiting around for you."

"Why?"

Bax took a bite of his croissant. "Oh, June's like that, all practical and shit... telling me you owed us nothing, and I should stop making you feel guilty, blah blah blah." He took a long slurp of his coffee. "But, something told me you'd be here today, so I bet her that if you turned up, she'll have to share her next meal with me."

"June?" It was the first time he'd learnt her name.

Bax looked up, baffled. "You didn't know her name and you've been buying her food and coffee all week, trying to pick her up?"

"I'm not trying to pick her up." Was he? No. Chad squirmed on the seat, feeling the man stare.

Bax laughed at Chad's discomfort. "Kinda funny you met June a month early."

Chad shook his head. No idea what the man was on about.

"You met her in May, didn't ya? A couple of weeks ago?" Bax laughed again, and it dawned on Chad that he meant months. The joke was terrible, but he laughed anyway.

"So what do you know about June?" he asked, curious to know her a little more.

Bax eyed the extra coffee that was getting cold in Chad's hand.

Chad passed it over. He could buy June a hot one when she came along.

"Well, I met her couple of months back when she was a newbie." Bax stared off into the morning light as he spoke.

(Image by Ronny K from Pixabay)