Rain - 2

The rain showed no sign of stopping, but she stood up, pulling her hood over her face. I watched her without saying anything, unsure if I even wanted her to stay. She looked out at the storm, her back to me, and for a moment, I thought she’d say something—something that would fill the silence between us.

But she didn’t.

"Well, I'll have to leave now" she muttered, her voice barely audible over the drumming of rain. She glanced at me briefly, her eyes flickering with something I couldn’t quite place. And then, without another word, she stepped out into the downpour. 

I watched her go, her figure dissolving into the rain, swallowed by the mist and the gloom. The storm hadn’t let up, and yet she walked like she belonged in the rain, it was just part of her world and herself. I waited for her to turn around, to look back, but she didn’t. She just kept walking until she was gone.

I stayed where I was, staring at the empty street where she had been. The rain was the only sound left now, but it wasn’t the same kind of quiet. It was louder, heavier, as if the storm was mocking me for letting her walk away.

My phone was still dead in my pocket, a useless weight. I leaned back against the cold metal bench, the chill seeping into my skin, and tried to think of something—anything—else. But she was still there, in the back of my mind, lingering like the rain.

Eventually, I left the shelter too. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but the streets were wet, reflecting the dim glow of the streetlights. The little streams on the side of the road flowed swiftly as I walked along. My feet dragged as I made my way back to my room. The storm outside had calmed, but the storm in my head hadn’t.

I opened the door of my room and immediately switched out my sodden T-shirt for something warm and dry. The dinner bell rang shrilly, echoing through the empty hostel. My phone chimed as I plugged it in to start another slow charging cycle. I kept some water to boil in my little electric kettle, which furiously bubbled and immediately shut off. I glanced at my coffee-tin, which was sadly empty, thanks to me taking some extra caffeine just to pass the Monday blues. Tea it was, then.

I rummaged through my scattered foodstuffs and found a rather old packet of green peppermint tea.

I emptied the packet into my chipped mug and poured in the scalding water from the kettle, and allowed it to brew slowly. The steam rose and misted the window, making the street look ethereal.

The tea was no help. I drifted off into an uneasy sleep, all the while dreaming of empty bus stops. 

~~~

I woke up with a strong headache, and a very minty breath from the tea. Cursing repeatedly, I brushed my teeth and dressed for college. I sat through my classes and listened to the professors drone on, but it was all white noise. Nothing stuck with me. I wasn’t really there. My mind kept wandering back to the shelter, back to the rain, back to her.

Lunch felt so half-hearted that I myself was surprised. I hadn't felt such emotions before within me, I didn't know what they were. And even if I asked others, I knew they would be of no help. They would alienate me and not tell me anything anyway. 

Evening crept in, bringing with it another storm. The rain started up again, harder this time, tapping against the window like it was trying to get in. It was still light out, but the sky was dark, thick clouds blocking the fading sun. The night was settling in early, swallowing up the day before it had a chance to fully end.

I couldn’t stay in the room any longer. Something was pulling me back to that place, back to the bus stop where we’d sat in silence, back to the storm that felt like it had never really stopped.

Before I knew it, I was out the door, walking through the downpour again. The streetlights flickered on as I passed them, casting long, distorted shadows across the wet road. The rain hit harder, soaking through my jacket, but I didn’t care. I kept walking, my footsteps echoing against the empty street.

When I reached the bus stop, it was empty, just like before. The shelter was dripping with rainwater, the bench cold and slick beneath me. I sat down anyway, staring out at the street as the storm raged on.

I waited there, the sound of rain filling the silence, hoping—though I didn’t know why—that she’d come back. But she didn’t. 

The night deepened, the sky dark and heavy with clouds, and the rain kept falling. All I could do was sit there and listen, letting the storm wash over me, waiting for something, and someone I couldn’t quite name.

She wouldn't come. I knew when I left from my room that she wouldn't be there, that she probably had more important things than some loser in a bus stop. The walking students jeered at me as I sat quietly, waiting, just holding on, like a vain fool, hoping that she would come back.

The rain didn’t stop, and neither did the thoughts swirling in my mind. Each droplet seemed to strike the pavement with a purpose, as if the storm knew something I didn’t. I glanced down at my feet, the puddles reflecting the glimmer of the streetlights above. 

She was gone. I told myself this over and over, yet here I was—sitting, waiting, hoping. I hated that hope. It felt misplaced, like a weight I didn’t ask for but couldn't put down.

The jeering students had long passed, their laughter fading into the distance. The street was empty again, save for the occasional car, its headlights cutting through the mist before disappearing into the gloom. I felt ridiculous sitting there, drenched and shivering, but moving didn’t seem like an option. It was as if the cold metal bench had somehow anchored me to that moment.

A gust of wind blew through the shelter, spraying rain onto my already soaked clothes. I pulled my hood tighter, though it made little difference now. The cold had settled deep in my bones, but I still sat there, my gaze fixed on the street as if waiting for something magical to happen. 

Maybe if I stayed long enough, she’d return. Maybe she’d appear out of the mist, like a figure from a half-forgotten dream. Maybe she’d walk up to me, her wet hair clinging to her face, and she’d say something that made sense of all of this. Maybe—just maybe—I hadn’t lost her completely.

But the road stayed empty, and the rain kept falling.

I was just about to leave when I saw her.

At first, she was just a shape in the distance, barely distinguishable from the rain that blurred the edges of everything. For a second, I thought I was imagining her, conjuring her back just to break the monotony of waiting. But no, the figure moved with purpose, and the closer she got, the more real she became.

Her stride was slow, deliberate, as if she wasn’t in any rush. She wasn’t drenched like I was—her coat and umbrella, a dull shade of grey, sheltered her from most of the storm. I could make out her face now, and though she was soaked around the edges, she didn’t seem to mind. The rain might as well have been a distant hum to her.

She didn’t glance around, didn’t seem startled to see me sitting there, as if she had expected me all along. For a brief moment, I wondered if she had been circling back, taking her time, making sure I was still here. Or maybe, like me, she couldn't find peace elsewhere.

Without a word, she stepped into the shelter and folded her umbrella carefully, shaking off the water with a practiced motion. Her hair was damp, small strands stuck to her cheek, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. She sat down next to me, not on the opposite side like before, but close enough that I could feel the warmth of her presence against the cold metal of the bench.

“Still here?” she asked quietly, glancing sideways at me. Her tone was soft, like she had already guessed my answer.

I nodded, unsure what to say. There was no accusation in her voice, no judgment—just the same quiet understanding that had lingered between us. 

“I figured you would be,” she sighed, staring out at the rain. "So, I came back."

I nodded slightly, not really knowing what to say. The rain had softened, tapping lightly against the roof of the shelter. It felt different now, not as oppressive as before. We sat in silence, the sound of the rain filling the space between us, but it wasn’t the heavy, uncomfortable silence we’d shared earlier. This one felt quieter, more like an understanding than an absence of words.

She didn’t try to explain herself, and I didn’t ask. We both knew there were things we didn’t need to say. I shifted slightly on the bench, the cold metal still biting through my clothes, but I barely noticed. The warmth of her presence next to me, the simple fact that she had come back, was enough for now.

For a while, we just sat there, side by side, watching the rain fall. There was no rush, no pressure to fill the silence. It was as if the storm had given us permission to just exist together, without needing to explain or justify anything.

I glanced at her again, and she met my eyes briefly, offering a small, tired smile. It wasn’t much, but it was real. And in that moment, it was enough.