The Kick Scooter

The Kick Scooter

My husband and I visited a small, hilly town for an event at the theater. We were in a large café bar, seated close to the glass wall, the only guests there, bathing in the sunshine.

A boy on a kick scooter burst onto the scene. He disappeared downhill on our left, descending quickly. I feared the rider might have fallen or run into something, or, God forbid, somebody. I looked at my husband; he shrugged his shoulders. The excitement was there, and then it passed. It reminded me of a fly whizzing by; you don’t know what to think or feel; it’s gone already.

A sip of coffee and a few terse sentences later, there he comes again. He bursts into our window from the right, racing into a deserted intersection. It had an electric drive, so the correct word would be "scooter" and not "kick scooter". He reminded me of a cartoon character or a Mr. Bean* adventure. I could imagine him provoking drivers, storming over the jammed city streets.

We called the guy who made us excellent coffee. I asked for an extra glass of water so I could water the withered philodendron in the corner of the café. The waiter was uncertain whether I was allowed to take care of the plant. Perhaps the owner cares for it. Well, he does not, obviously. The poor thing is barely alive.

Soon, the driver’s blue cap emerges, followed by his white T-shirt, blue jeans, and white trainers, climbing the hill and approaching the café, hopping a bit over the cobblestones. This time, at the intersection, he was looking to his right, our left. Then he disappeared behind the building.

An older gentleman was weeding in a nearby garden. He was moving slowly around his flower beds with perennials. Smart; they are neither expensive nor problematic to care for. The gardener left the plot and went into the house. Soon, he came back with a mobile to his ear.

There comes the scooter again. Quite unexpectedly, he stopped in front of the café, parked his scooter close to our window, and walked past us with a sharp step. He yelled at the boy who makes fantastic coffee, took some money out of the cash register, passed by the wilted plant and our table, mounted his vehicle, and disappeared around the corner. To our right.

The two of us looked at each other, both amused and surprised, for I thought it was a boy making crazy rides around the old town square. The waiter, carrying a glass of water in his trembling hand, arrived at our table: "It was the boss. You may water the plant; it’s ok."

*Character created by Rowan Atkinson, English actor, comedian and writer.

Biography: Đurđa Vukelić Rožić (1956) earned an associate degree from the Faculty of Economics and Business, Zagreb. She is a writer in Croatian, Kajkavian and English and authored 23 books of poetry and prose. She edited a number of anthologies, miscellanies, and haiku collections. For 16 years she served as an editor in chief of the IRIS Haiku Journal. 

She received the Lifetime Achievement Award given by the town of Ivanić-Grad to individuals for their overall career. She also received over one hundred awards for her work in Croatia and abroad. She is a member of the Croatian Writers' Association (DHK), Matrix Croatica, World Haiku Association (Japan). She lives in Ivanić-Grad.

Image: Unsplash, downloaded (https://unsplash.com/photos/three-white-vehicle-on-road-during-daytime-biLxFFE7de4) 21. 4. 2026.

---

#ĐurđaVukelićRožić #freshprose