Yeah, it was Orange, NSW—hotter than a summer rap battle, where the sun’s got a vendetta and the air’s thick with sound and sweat. A small-town scene straight out of some low budget movie, but trust me, it had stories to tell. That’s where I met Tee, and man, if life’s a mixtape, she was the fire track that flipped the whole script.
I’m talking about late January, the kind of heat where you’re sweating through your soul, and the only thing cooler than the beer in the fridge is the sight of someone who doesn’t seem to sweat at all.
Tee walked into my life like she owned the place, cool and collected, like she’d been taking lessons from the gods of chill.
She was working at the local takeaway, the one that’s been serving up grubby burgers and bad coffee since forever. My usual spot. I’d come in for the greasy fix, flipping through the pages of a tattered magazine while I waited for my order. That’s when she caught my eye.
She had this vibe—like a cyclone wrapped in a summer dress. There was something about the way she carried herself, like she was always ready to drop some wisdom or kick some serious anus.
I was sitting there, trying to keep my cool, but inside, my brain was doing flips.
She brought my food to the table, and when she smiled, it was like a 50-watt bulb lighting up a dark room.
“ Here’s your greasy fix, ” she said, slinging the plate down with a smirk that told me she knew exactly what she was doing.
I tried to play it smooth, but my voice came out like gravel, “ Thanks. Name’s Max. You’re new around here? ”
She gave me that look—like she was trying to figure me out, and I was caught in the crossfire.
“ Tee, " she said. " Yeah, I just moved in around here. What’s your story? ”
We started talking, and man, that conversation was electric.
She had this way of speaking, like she was spitting rhymes in a freestyle battle. She wasn’t here to mess around. She’d drop truth bombs and fire shots, talking about the world like she’d seen every side of it and still had time to critique it.
Our little chats turned into something more.
I started showing up at the place just to see her, even though the burgers were starting to taste like cardboard.
We’d sit at the table, her with her sass and me with my crooked grin and bad teeth, and we’d trade stories like we were playing a card game.
I’d tell her about the old town, the struggles, the escapes, my love for hip hop; she’d hit me back with stories of cities, dreams, and struggles that made mine look like a kindergarten essay.
We went to a monster truck jam, held hands, and the fireworks exploded like our nerves, man.
One night, after the takeaway closed, we ended up on the roof of the old building across the street. It was like our secret spot, our little slice of freedom. The town below was quiet, and the stars were a backdrop to the mess of emotions we were about to lay out.
“ Do you ever feel like you’re trapped? ” I asked, leaning back, feeling the heat of the day still clinging to my skin.
Tee laughed, a sound that felt like breaking free, “ Trapped? Hell, I feel like I’m just waiting for the next break, the next escape. You know, sometimes you gotta grab life by the reins and take it where you want. ”
She had this gleam in her eyes that matched stars in the night sky. We leaned in, and when our lips touched, it was like a burst of energy, a collision of our worlds.
It wasn’t a smooth romance. It was raw, intense, like a freestyle session that went off the rails but still made you want more.
But like all stories in a small town, things got complicated. Tee was only here for a summer, chasing dreams and leaving trails of fire in her wake.
As the days dragged on, reality hit me harder than a punch in the gut. She was a flame, burning bright but never meant to stay.
The day she left, the town felt colder, like someone had turned down the volume on life.
She left a note—just a few words scribbled on a crumpled piece of paper: Keep chasing, Max. The world’s bigger than us.
I kept her words close, like a track on repeat.
Tee was a wildfire in my life, burning through the monotony, showing me what it meant to live with passion and reason.
Even though she was gone, she left a mark that no amount of heat or booze could erase.
So now, whenever I’m sitting in that takeaway, or cruising down those familiar streets, I remember Tee.
I remember the fire, the sparks, and the way she turned a simple summer into a story worth telling. And as much as I hate to admit it, she’s a part of my mixtape, the track that made all the difference.
Bio:
Luke Christopher Hennessy is the author of poetry, short stories, and novels. He lives in Coffs Harbour, NSW, Australia.