A Miracle for a Small House Rabbit

Golden sunlight streamed through the windows, catching specks of dust in a way that made the air around the table seem to sparkle with magic. Almost as though something of her presence remained.

A broad figure eclipsed the golden light. The barista had come over to clear the dishes from the table. He stooped over the table to examine something amongst the dishes, lifting a small black book from under a saucer. His eyes darted to the windows and scanned the street outside before he spun round to yell out

“Did anyone see which way she went?”

Nearly every hand in the small coffee shop pointed out the direction, joined by at least 3 voices “she went left”.

“Cheers!” the barista took flight, bursting out of the door and sprinting past the window, apron flapping around his long legs.

The customers looked around at each other. The abrupt flurry of activity had broken what had been a reverential atmosphere in the quiet cafe.

“Oh I do hope he finds her”

“Me too...that must have been the book she was writing in.”

Lorna and Matt went to the same yoga class and often bumped into each other in the sunny cafe on the corner.

“Did you see her?”

“Yes, how could I not?....I...I wanted to go and...”

“Oh me too! But then she would burst out laughing and it seemed she was OK”

“I hope she is OK”

“I mean...she was crying but she seemed so, well, happy at the same time”

“I know what you mean! Did you see how much she was writing too? It was kind of like she was in on some great universal joke and somehow it made the room like a warm bath. As though by being close I got a taste of what it was like to be in on the joke too.”

Matt laughed “I don't think I could have described it that well, but yes, somehow exactly that. I think that was what made it seem like she didn't need consoling...it felt to me like I was watching something miraculous. I'm ashamed to say I struggled to not watch her. I probably should have left around half an hour ago already”

The bell above the coffee shop door jangled and the now red-faced, panting barista walked back in to be greeted by a sea of expectant faces.

“Did you find her?” Matt and Lorna chorused.

He held the black Moleskine in front of his face, hands now on his knees as he heaved in breaths.

“Shit...me I've gotta...stop smoking” he gasped “I...I couldn't see her anywhere...she must have moved fast...does anyone...know her?”

Heads shook and the cafe turned back to their drinks.

By now Lorna, Matt, and the out of breath Tim were standing around the table in the window looking expectantly at the small black book in the barista's hands. Tim's brow was tangled as he stared at the book.

“She might come back for it?”

“There might be contact details inside!”

Lorna and Matt's eyes darted with childlike excitement towards the book causing the barista to clasp it closer to his chest.

“Hmmm...it seems very personal, but I would hate for anything to happen to it here or for it to get lost...”

“Come on, there's nothing wrong with looking in the front cover.”

Lorna thought for a moment before speaking again.

“Do either of you have a journal? Filled with your deepest thoughts?”

Eyes looked up to her.

“I do...”

“Me too.” said the barista.

“I have one too” Lorna added “and if I lost it somewhere, I would want to be reunited with it. Would any of you mind someone looking in your diary to try and return it to you?”

They paused a moment, each considering the content of their own diaries, the secrets that lay within. Better to have it back and possibly read, or to lose it forever?

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Ba...crash.

She stumbled into the room, taken by surprise by the sudden surrender of the door to the force of her shoulder.

“That fucking lock!” She laughed untangling herself from scarves, hair, and bags.

The room was illuminated by the same golden light that had flooded her table in the coffee shop. It was a small studio apartment, quirky and lived in. A few too many houseplants fought for space amongst stacks of books, artworks, and pages filled with notes. Every surface was lined with trinkets and stacks. The place was bursting at the seams with colour and interesting collections of unusual things. She let out a sigh looking over the room.

“Soon hey?” she addressed a small house rabbit peering expectantly at her from a cage under a dining table laden with stacks of books. She pulled some dandelion leaves from the pocket of her coat and crouched to the cage. “Soon my little poppet, things will change. I will find a job and we will have a garden for you to run around in all day with a lawn will be filled with dandelions, I promise.”

As the rabbit crunched happily on the foraged treats, she sighed again.

The trip to the coffee shop had cost the last of her money and a pang of guilt began to rise. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and sighed again, visibly relaxing. It's OK, she told herself. There was enough food to last until she next got paid, the rent was covered too. She had her books, her art, and this space, tiny as it may be. “I needed it. I needed to get out” she said aloud “something comes up, it always does.” She felt lighter than she had that morning, more so for remembering the bliss she had bathed in with the sunlight; writing and resolving over the treat of fresh coffee. Over the course of the hours, everything had somehow come into focus. “I must have looked mental” she laughed under her breath, remembering that at a few points she'd been laughing and crying whilst writing feverishly. Whether it was the relief of having woken to the inspiration to finish her guide or the rare act of actually finishing a project she didn't yet know, but she felt a weight had been lifted.

Better still, reading the guide had actually helped. Now if she could only read it every day then maybe something miraculous might happen.

Thinking of the guide, where was her notebook?

The group in the coffee shop looked up at each other in stunned silence from the final page.

Ten minutes or so ago Lorna had taken the lead and, with it, the notebook from the barista's hands. Inside the front cover were the words “THE GUIDE: a way through”.

A brief discussion had started again on privacy and while the other two were distracted by the morality of searching the pages for contact details, Lorna had begun to leaf through the book.

“Hey, I think you should look at this...I've found a name, and a number, but, just have a look”

Now they were each looking at each other in dumb-struck awe, mouths open but quickly breaking into smiles.

“Ha, I...this is...”

“How did that, how was it so transformative, but also so funny?”

“I'm a therapist and that...it...that's got some special kind of power”

“I have never read anything like it!”

This last exclamation came from Matt, laughing with tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Give me her number,” he said “I think I may be able to make her day. ”

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Ba...crash.

She stumbled into the room, taken by surprise by the sudden surrender of the door to the force of her shoulder.

“That fucking lock!”

She burst out laughing as she closed the door behind her, sliding down to the doormat. Sitting amongst the heads of broccoli, potatoes, and bags of lentils that had been strewn about in her earlier search for first her notebook, and then her ringing phone. She looked at the envelope in her hands while the rabbit looked at her expectantly through the twilight of the room.

“Well,” she said through giggles, looking at the small creature “when I said we'd be getting you a dandelion garden soon, I didn't think it would be this soon.” She looked back at the envelope and lowering her voice. “Frank, my little poppet, this is all the dandelions.”

She picked up a head of broccoli and broke off a piece while shuffling over to the cage under the laden table. Passing the piece to Frank, who was pleased his hours of attempted telekinesis had finally paid off, she opened the cage and sat by him.

Frank crunched merrily as she let out a long sigh.

With shaking hands, she opened the envelope and pulled out the cheque.

On it were the words “TWENTY THOUSAND POUNDS”

“Frank...” she whispered “this...this is freedom”

Frank knew nothing of pieces of paper and couldn't read. He also didn't understand words like “publisher” or “money” or “rent-free”. However, he did understand the pleasure of eating broccoli, being allowed to run around everywhere and, therefore, find more broccoli and other things to eat. So when Frank heard the word “freedom” as she told him about her day, he hoped that's what it meant.