He walked out of the house and into the bitter embrace of the early morning. The wind howled and the rain pelted him, his coat and trousers whipping insanely as the wind hit them, deflecting the rain drops lashing him back to the ground, some of them absorbed into his clothes. He looked up, his deep blue eyes searching the road, looking for any sign of life. There was none.<br/><br/>He turned his head sideways slightly, first left, then right, before crossing the road. He sighed, it was an awful night to be out, but still not as awful as that night. He walked on the pavement and turned the corner. The street was deserted and dark, apart from one stores light spilling onto the black and dreary pathway. This was the cafe he had heard so much about from people in the town. Well, from what he had overheard from people in the town.<br/><br/>Christopher was a loner, and kept to himself. That didn't mean he did not enjoy company; occasionaly it was quite pleasant. What he enjoyed most though was observing and listening to others and their conversations. It was something that had always intrigued him. He had settled down in this town a few months earlier, and he had overheard more and more people talk about this place, that it was the best place ever, that weird things happened here. Maybe, just maybe, this place would have all the answers he wanted, no, needed.<br/><br/>He walked up to the door and grabbed the handle, the cold brass sending a slight shiver down his hand. He tugged gently on the door (as he had to do with anything he pulled towards him), opening it just enough so he could enter. He rubbed his hands together and breathed on them, his warm breathe bringing a tad of pleasure to his frozen hands. In truth he didn't really feel the pain or cold, it was due to his body. But he knew they were cold, so better to heat them. He went to the counter, sat down, read a paper and waited for someone to serve him.