It's a terribly cold morning in San Francisco, it's been snowing for days-though it has stopped momentarily-as is expected during winter, the cold is numbing, yet, Bamboo shivers as he feels like the temperature dropped degrees lower since the day before.
He should stay in, curl up in a blanket, sip on a scalding cup of coffee, and not walk towards his car parked outside his two-storey apartment. His feet have betrayed him. And his workaholic side. He has to run some errands at the studio and get back home as soon as he can, he promises himself, as much.
Bamboo carefully maneuvers his way through the snow-covered streets of San Francisco, still busy and bustling, despite the harsh weather. Catching a stoplight, he fishes his iPhone out of his pants pocket, checking some unopened text messages. He had no time to read them last night. He passed out immediately on the bed upon arriving home from a gig. Thumbing down his inbox, he sees a few mobile numbers of unknown senders, more often than not, from random ladies he has met. It's still a mystery to him how they got his digits as he never gave them away. He does not bother to open them, eyes settling instead on a name whom messages he hasn't received in a while.
[Marcus]
Dude, sorry for the delay. Finished the book. Meet me today?
Marcus is a barista and owner of this quaint, little cafe down Columbus avenue. Bamboo does frequent the place for reading. Though, really, the pastry and beverages are fantastic. Marcus recognizes him the first time he visited the coffee shop, having a Filipino wife who happens to be one of his fans. "No, more than that actually, she had a huge crush on you. Thankfully, she married me, huh?" Bamboo recalls Marcus telling him that before having him sign an autograph which he happily obliged to do. The two men have been friends since then. Might as well drop by later. He wonders if he would have no payment for his coffee and bread since he lent On The Road by John Kerouac to him a little over two months ago. Free meals for overdue books sounds about right.
Being an expert driver, he instinctively knows the traffic light's gonna turn green any second now so he casts his phone aside and directs his gaze back on the street. He patiently waits for the the group of pedestrians crossing the lane, all in a quick pace, donning coats and hats-a mirror of what he is wearing. Layer upon layer of thermal clothing to combat the cold. If anyone asks him, however, he would admit he loves winter fashion to the point of indulgence. He even has his favorite boots on today.
The brakes light changes from yellow to green. He proceeds in a slow, steady speed, not trusting the icy and slippery road. Passing by shop after shop of food and clothing, Bamboo muses how wonderful it is that Christmastime happens during winter, breathing color and life to the otherwise white, drab, and depressing season.
He catches sight of a Santa mascot that appears to be dancing in the sidewalk, drawing in a small crowd around him, snapping shots of him with their phone cameras. Except for that one lady who is just standing there, laughing, clutching her pink luggage. She looks oddly familiar. He almost remembers who this might be, but no, he's not going there, not today.
Three hours later, Bamboo arrives at Mon Chatte-the cafe is every bit as French as its owner. He steps out of his black Maserati, crossing his arms in an attempt to warm himself. The snow is falling again.
He enters the place, and is greeted by the sweet aroma of coffee and are those...chocolate brownies?
"Ça fait longtemps, Francisco!" Marcus exclaims as soon as he sees Bamboo. The former envelops him in a bear hug. "C'est bon de te voir!"
