(It’s been a while since I posted any of my fiction here. I found this amongst the old files. I’m not sure where it came from, but reading it reminded me of the feeling that made me write it. And don’t worry, I love rain, adore it even. Enjoy.)
…
There was nothing outside but rain. I stood by the window, counting the drops and wondering just how many fall in between two heartbeats. Clouds were looming over the city, leaving no trace of the blue sky. I knew it must still be out there, just as the Sun is as well, but at this moment, I felt nothing but the rain; saw nothing but the grey.
The world outside didn’t seem to care. An occasional bird would still fly between the park and the roofs, looking for food for its young. Branches moved in silence, touched by the cold, merciless wind. Earth itself lived on as if nothing has happened, and that hurt me more than anything else.
I reached in my pocket and took out a framed photo. You smiled gently at me from it, as you always did when our eyes met. I fought the tears swelling up, leaned my forehead against the cold window, trying not to feel the raindrops on the other side of the glass. I followed a single drop, watched it slide down, drawn by invisible but ever-present force that ultimately gets to us all. The drop didn’t mind, though – it will join the river of rain and mud 20 floors bellow and continue its journey. No one seemed to care, and it was tearing me apart.
There were few people on the street, fighting against the rain and the wind. Some because they had to, others because they wouldn’t let the rain dictate their day. The postman struggled with his bag, trying to keep its content dry as he reached in for someone’s mail. An old woman greeted him and complained about the weather. A stray dog glanced at him as he passed by, to wet and cold to care. I shifted my attention from the streets below to the building opposite mine. Some windows were opened, some firmly shut with blinds pulled over them. People lived their lives as they always did when it rained.
Rain muted the sounds, all but its own. Someone was arguing in the flat above mine. A child from downstairs was playing the piano, the same simple melody over and over until it sinks in and she becomes proficient enough playing that part. Then she’ll move on to something else. A dog barked somewhere in the building and there was a smell of food being prepared from somewhere on my floor. The rain had a way of changing lives, and no one seemed to notice it but me.
It was everywhere. It crawled between the buildings, it streamed on the streets, and it took over the air. Outside, there was no escaping it. It soaked the clothes, covered faces, dripped from everywhere. People were breathing it in, stepping in it and brushing against it. It was there when you stepped out of the building, waiting for you with undying patience. It was in your eyes as you stepped off the curb. It kept falling as you slipped and fell. It covered the windscreen of the cars passing by. It made you invisible until it was too late. It took you away from me.
The rain is evil, I know it now. It changes lives, it stops heartbeats. And no one cares. The postman still delivers his letters, stray dogs still roam. Rain still falls.
Tears streamed down my face and I wiped them dry as roughly as I could. My sight became a field of blurred greyness; shapes sliding down the window in front of me. Nothing but rain everywhere. I fought it for as long as I could, but I can’t fight any more. It took everything from me and it will keep taking until there’s nothing left.
I sat down on the floor, leaned my back against the balcony door, feeling the rain touching my back through the glass. The sound of its tapping somehow became louder. I looked down at the photo again, gasping for your smile. Instead, I realized the frame was wet. Surprised, I’ve let out a strange sound as my throat tightened. The tears streamed down my face and the rain within claimed me, as it did everything else.
THE END