This is a sweet little story I wrote a little while ago. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Part two will be up by the end of the week.
He Saw Her in the Rain
By J. A. Weymouth
He saw her in the rain when he was walking along the breakwater. It was pouring as he looked over to see the waves lick the wooden stumps. The waves moved in such desperation as if they longed to be a part of the land.
The sea’s ferocity moved him as he contemplated nasty thoughts. They were inside his head and they were screaming. But then he saw her in the rain, as he was about to jump hoping to become a part of that foreboding ocean. He relished the thought. He was going to become a part of something greater. The most powerful thing he could think of. Not some ridiculous human life.
He didn’t see her at first. He heard the soft pounding of thick raindrops. A rhythmic tap tap of rain falling on an umbrella. It was the fussy sound that drew his attention. They were beating her umbrella as he turned around to see. She wasn’t close either.
He turned and saw wellingtons. The bright canary yellow stood out in the gray. They were splashed in mud. He couldn’t see her face it was covered by her umbrella. He also noticed that she was slightly bent over. Her back and shoulders were straight but it seemed she was looking down. He saw a puddle at her feet, but whatever fascination she found in the puddle puzzled him. What was she looking at? He wondered.
He hears her sneeze and she bends closer to the puddle. She pulls up a ring. He sees it glitter. Sunshine manages to escape through the thick of cloud covering her shoulders in a soft, warm glow. It showers her face. He sees it for the first time. He thought she was beautiful even as she stood without protection from the rain. The raindrops highlighted the paleness of her face and the blueness of her eyes. Her umbrella left forgotten at her feet. The attention was focused on the ring.
Blue globes look up. He notices her noticing him. All previous thoughts on the breakwater disappear as she gives him a pensive look. She begins to move, walking closer to him. He sees her put the ring in the small of her pocket, smiling up at him. Her hands slid into the inside of her woollen jacket for warmth. He felt nervous. Her moving towards him made him cautious. He fidgets suddenly forgetting why he was there and thinks of turning his back to her.
The rain had stopped. She is much closer now. He could see her clearly, only a few feet away. Chestnut wet hair clung to her face. Now standing before him he could see her panda eyes masked by milky mascara, her lips pale and shivering. She smells of oak and cinnamon. He sees her hand move. Up and open. There sat the ring. She nudges her hand towards him, encouraging him. He takes out his hand and opens his palm out to her. She drops the ring into his.
“Happy Tuesday,” she says.
He can’t find any words. She is behind him now walking away. He doesn’t look at her as she leaves instead he looks at the ring. It’s a plastic cheap one, something a young girl would wear. It has a light pink band and a diamante in the shape of a heart. He suddenly decides the sea is too deep and too cold for him. The thought of home was more comforting. He would sit in front of a warm fire as he daydreamed of blue globes and wet chestnut hair, while the smell of oak and cinnamon still lingered on his mind. He turns around and she’s gone. He thinks he’ll keep the ring as a memento. He didn’t feel like killing himself today.
That was when he saw her in the rain.