[ unadulterated . ]

Unadulterated: Fearless

"Are you going out again?" 

He was still in his pyjamas, leaning on the railings of their swirling stairs. She squeezes some avocado hand cream onto her palm and picks up her backpack. 

"Yes, I am." 

She replies, unbolting the front door locks and swinging it just wide enough for her to escape. 

"Will you be back in time for dinner?" 

Her hair gets caught between her backpack and jacket and she frees them. Maybe she shouldn't have left her hair down. She checks her wrists for hairbands, noticing only a brown leather-weaved bracelet that she bought for $5 at a church Christmas appeal. 

"Yes, maybe even for tea time. Can you get me my hairbands? They might be on my shelf or table, wherever." 

He scuttles back upstairs and she waits patiently in the August chill as she hears the footsteps of her brother pacing into her room and the creaking of her room door closing behind him. He reappears at the stairs railing with two hair ties. 

"Thanks! Make sure Nicky doesn't wake up too late."

She says as she closes the front door and locks it. August is the last month of winter in Melbourne, and walking on the driveway, she believes she was dressed a little too warm for the current weather. 'It might rain though, knowing Melbourne.' she comforts herself with that thought, cautiously aware of her surroundings. It takes her ten minutes to walk to the train station, but it's a dodgy neighbourhood, so who knows what might happen? She checked her facebook feed this morning while sipping a mixture of coffee and hot chocolate, and one of her 989 friends' neighbour's car blew up this morning because some hooligans poured petrol over it and set it on fire. At least it's not too dodgy in the Eastern suburbs, but she knows to be cautious nevertheless. 

She sprints the last stretch to the station, seeing the train to Flinders St fleet past her. The blue and yellow trademark blur halts as she pulls her Myki out and touches on, nearly missing the train if the middle-aged man in a bomber jacket had not held the door open for her. She thanks him briefly and moves to find a spot on the train. She settles on a window seat of a four-seater next to a uni student going over her notes. She peeks a little at her notes, taking in the marketing jargon and plugs in her earphones. Hence begins the forty minute train ride to Flinders St station.

She takes out her yellowing book "Where Angels Fear to Tread" and starts reading at page 23 despite her motion sickness. As Metallica slams 'Enter Sandman' into her ears, she starts wondering if this was a risky adventure. She was meeting up with a guy seven years her senior. They met briefly three months ago when she accidentally spilled Coke on his suit at her workplace. Her manager tut-tutted at her and threatened to not pay her her tips. She pleaded guilty and apologised profusely. The guy did not mind but left the table to pay his bill. In the crowd of the restaurant at peak hour, he slid a red $20 note into her black apron with his receipt and winked. Then he was gone.  

One of the senior staff at the restaurant saw it all and teased her. He told most of the staff and the teasing continued throughout her night shift, but the teasing turned into a 'take-my-advice' session. She was in her last year of highschool and about to complete her VCE. They advised her to think of her future and nothing more. In other words, don't get caught by the guy's pace. 

She couldn't stop thinking of him. He was nice-looking enough, polite, and witty. And he generously gave her $20, which could suffice for four lunchtime burgers at school. 

She believed it was only a one-off event, retelling the story as jokingly as possible to her friends at school but keeping it a secret from her family. Somehow this keeps the warm fuzziness of his kindness alive.