ʜᴇᴀᴠᴇɴ ᴏʀ ʜᴇʟʟ ⟶ ɢinny ᴡeasley

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"Looks like it's gonna rain tonight," Pat sighed and leaned out the window as soon as she saw the sky light up from the lightning.

The girl she was speaking to stopped doing her chores for a few moments to follow Pat's gaze and nodded to herself. "It does."

She kept cleaning up the few tables in the cafeteria and scrubbing the floor, saving Pat's work. She was an elderly woman who ran a cafe in the center of the city, and although it was not very large, she always had a loyal clientele. However, she was already too old to wait tables and at the same time prepare orders behind the bar, so when a younger Jude had walked into the cafeteria almost begging for a job, Pat had not thought about it twice.

The truth was, she didn't know much about the girl, she thought as she glanced at her. She had walked into the cafeteria almost at closing time, and she was wearing clothes so dark and elegant that Pat thought she was mistaken —she would never have guessed that the girl wanted a job. And yet, even though it had only been a couple of months, she thought she had seen that little girl grow up before her eyes.

Pat turned, opened her mouth to continue speaking to her, but rectified when she realized that her employee was no longer paying attention, but had returned to her task of collecting the remaining cups from the tables. She did not talk much, something that made the old woman distrust the younger, but she did have to admit that she was fully efficient in her work: not talking meant less time wasted.

The dark strands of hair that covered the girl's face barely moved when her boss spoke to her again: "You should go home. I can do the rest for tonight," said Pat as she approached, not without effort, the bar. "Besides, your parents would kill me if I made you stay and let you go home soaked."

Jude stood still, her gaze lost in the sink, grateful to be behind the counter so that Pat couldn't see her face. It took her a few seconds to answer the woman, her gaze still fixed on the utensils. "They won't care," her voice was firm and serious, so cold that it sent a chill down Pat's spine.

"I insist," the woman placed a hand on the young woman's shoulder, which perfectly masked how reluctant she felt to receive physical contact. "You go home. I'll clean this up. I'll give you a call tomorrow morning in case the storm has been rough and you don't need to come."

The brunette didn't say anything else. She removed the damp cloth from her shoulder along with the spotless apron she was wearing and placed them on the nearest stool. She got rid of the ponytail she always made for work, even though her hair was so messy that a strand of it always escaped. She took one last look at Pat, who was already facing away, knowing that the girl never said goodbye.

She hadn't brought an umbrella that morning, but neither had she done the day before, or the day before this. She didn't even have one at home. She had installed relatively recently, so she only had what she needed. The apartment was furnished enough that the girl could live comfortably, but it had no luxury that she had been used to for a long time. The old Jude would have laughed at her for not having umbrellas, or for having noodles almost every day.

The first drops began to wet her skin and hair as she turned the corner. Her hair began to bristle a bit from the humidity of the great storm that was about to come, so she quickened her pace, already smelling of wet grass. There was no one around her; it was too late for children to play outside, especially under the circumstances.

Her boots got into more than one puddle and the water and wind caused her skin to bristle more than once from the cold. Lightning illuminated the night and thunder accompanied her on her way. She hurriedly reached into her purse to find the keys —her apartment was close by and she didn't want to linger another minute in that infernal rain.