He came down to the doorstep at 15, Longridge Road. He looked out to the same pathway that he has been taking since Autumn.
It's still as wet, as it had been, months before.With the same backpack, and the same old black umbrella, he went onto the same pathway.
He knew that he won't be able to see the rainbows. The rain always comes early, and lingers; while the sun never comes, or it sets early.
The only rainbows that he can probably see these days, are the colourful umbrellas that he sees on the street. Maybe that is as close as the Londoners can get to cheer themselves up, when they are looking up to the sky, under the colourful umbrellas.
Many people who were on the same pathway, stopped by at Bencho, the local coffee house. The warm, cosy couch, coupled with a cup of hot chocolate, perhaps according to them, is the best way to sip through the rains and smell a rainbow.
The door opened, many people came, and some left. Some were on their luggage, some were clearing their baggage; all under the same roof, same rain, but different moods.
"Is this what March's having for us?" he wondered.
He continued his journey, to the place with a confined green lawn, where the Queen's Tower was erected, and the place where demanding courseworks meet with reluctant students.
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