A fan of The Catcher in the Rye? You might enjoy this. Im not saying it’s as good (tho I dont think Rye is good) but for disclaimer, this is plot-less (just so you know what to expect). Enjoy the imagery.
After running across the subdivision for thirty minutes, she still hasn’t come. The skies were gray, the air a smell of cooling earth, but no sign of drizzle from the heavens. I left the house hoping to bask within a heavy downpour but I already cooled down and she still hasn’t come. What a bummer.
I thought I’d wait for her at the man-made unmaintained mini forest beside the main road. I sat on a cemented bench at the court-side, feeling the cold breeze caressing my arms and shoulders. I was drenched in sweat. I wouldn’t catch a cold under this condition, would I? The last thing I want is to be sick again after the flu ruckus I had in LB last month.
Then she waved her tiny shiny face over me. Pitter, Patter. It seeped like the sizzle of bacon in a frying pan, only slower. Like a runner on a 2K-jog, she dripped on a good pace—no hurry, no pressure. God, I really want to be letting out with somebody right now. Can you cry harder? I thought God can help me synchronize nature with my emotions but He’s not up for the drama.
Drip. Drip. Drip, she went for a quarter of an hour. Inch by inch it soaked my boy-cut hair, displacing sweat with water. I was enjoying every second of it until passers-by under their umbrellas started staring. I realized I looked emotive sitting under the rain. It was a funny thought but I might have looked really emotive, especially with my hair! I couldn’t care less, though. The moment was too good to let social opinion ruin it, especially when her pace has notched higher the tempo.
She kissed my cheeks, then my eyes, then my nose. The need to wipe up my face from salt water was irrelevant; she already drenched it with cold rain drops. A feeling of warmth embraced me despite my chicken-skinning under the fresco. I wanted more of it.
Thinking I was already doing something not of everyday, why not push it a bit further? I shifted my seat to the middle, pulled my legs unto the stall and laid my head against the bench. Did the architect of this concrete seat know I’d be lying here one day? It was perfect fit for my height! Oh, what a beautiful way to receive every heaven’s blessing.
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