Chimera (a short story)

It was raining hard, water poured down from steep, red roofs of old Prague houses. The storm had started quite unexpectedly, in the middle of a sticky and humid, summer day. The strapless red dress she’d been wearing for the first time was already soaked to skin. For half an hour now, she was hoping for a place to hide and warm up. A few hurried steps further down the street, she spotted a signboard, propped against a tree on the pavement. It only read Chimera: do come inside. The words were being beaten by the streaks of water falling through the leaves. From the window, the café looked cosy and welcoming. Before she realised, its dimmed lights and antiquated furniture lured her inside.

The tune she heard inside made her suddenly think of something. Something she couldn’t grasp, nor understand. She must have heard the song before but she didn’t remember where or when. She’d been in this city for less than a month but this café looked strangely familiar to her. There was no one inside, except for the waiter in a dark-grey old-fashioned suit. He was grey-haired and walked slowly, limping on one foot. He motioned her to sit in a dark-green sofa with Manchester upholstering. Then he brought her coffee and a small towel to cover her shoulders.

It struck her how much this whole scene felt known to her. As if she’d been in this place before, as if this whole afternoon was nothing more than a well-played déjà-vu. The waiter was saying nothing, making her feel special, welcome, expected.

Then, looking around the room, her eyes fell on a small painting, right opposite the sofa she’d been sitting in. At first, she thought it was a mirror. Coming closer, she realised it was an exceptionally detailed oil painting. Her heart almost stopped.

In the picture, a young woman in a red dress was sitting in the very same sofa. Her hair was clearly wet and she had a small, light-blue towel placed on her shoulders. On the table, in front of the sofa was a steaming cup.

Source: http://fineartamerica.com/images-medium/red-awnings-impressionistic-oil-painting-daniel-fishback.jpg

An hour later, she left the café without a word. Her rational mind was struggling with the events of the afternoon. She decided to sleep on this and come back one day later, with a friend.

The following day, the two women spent hours looking for Chimera. Although they crossed the same streets as she did the day before, there was no sign on the pavement, no café with old-time dark green sofa, no strange paintings on the walls. Chimera had disappeared.