Rainclouds

“Today’s forecast holds rain,” the weatherman said in his usual, chipper tone of voice, but you could see that he was beginning to crack. That was a secret that he held in his eyes- you could see it in the way that they didn’t shimmer in the artificial television light. “Just like yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before tha-” The camera angle abruptly shifted to a primly dressed news anchor still in the middle of whipping her hand back and forth across her throat, desperately trying to signal to someone, anyone, to get him off the air immediately. A wide, obviously phony and slightly panicked grin poured over her neatly manicured features as she realized that she was back on the air and settled into her routine of fixing the mistakes of others and telling the heavily doctored versions of the truth as it wasn’t. And now, back to your regularly scheduled programming….     

It was all too much for you. You were sick of the bickering tv show hosts that had somehow found themselves in highly trusted positions and the trivial yet nonsensical news that they had to share that gave no actual information. Angrily jabbing a finger at the power button, you let their bubblegum- cheerful words fade to static and that same static fade to silence. As the silence, soft and calming, filled the room, you turned to the world outside of your windows for entertainment. The skies were heavy and gray with the predicted rain- the same as they had been every day for as long as you could remember. It came down in thick sheets, drenching the world in a dismal color and a cold layer of wet. You knew it was coming. All that was left to find out was exactly when it would start. 

It was that day, guessing at the rain’s arrival as you watched the world as apart from it, that you first saw her. In that moment she cut through the gray as she walked her small, fluffy dog (you were all too aware of the type, one of those yappy little things of indeterminate breed made of at least two parts hair and six parts evil that think that they own the world and everything in it despite taking up less space than a loaf of bread). For the first time in days, weeks, months, you could see the sun again, even if it was swallowed up again after she turned the corner with her (it stuck in your throat to say it) admittedly cute, skittering mutt. That feeling that she brought, that slight hope that had ridden on her heels along with that little dog, was strange and unfamiliar to you, and you had held onto it with desperately grasping fingers for days as it slowly faded, crushed by the swirling storm that sat above you.

For some in this world, those good, bright things don’t seem to come often enough. It would be months before you saw her again and minutes between when you stopped thinking about her. Even then, that next time was just a glimpse, enough to lift your spirits momentarily but dash them all the more when you realized that she was gone, slipping away, the all- encompassing curtain of the rain closing behind her as she left. You wouldn’t have even known that it had been her if you hadn’t seen the clouds lift slightly and the sun come out for a moment before they came back down again, heavier than before as you learned that you had missed her. More months in the interim, more people met, more people lost. Life continued to pass as it always had. You tried to forget her, forget that momentary release, but found yourself always unable. And the rain and the gray grew worse. 

One day, when it was raining the hardest it had been in quite some time, you decided that you had to go out and stand in it, just for something to do, some break from the endless, relentless monotony of the ceaseless rain. It felt good, pounding down on you from above, but there was also the unfortunate upcoming reality, you were made to recognize as it made itself apparent, of the unpleasantness that is wet socks. It was there, staring down into your soggy, rain- laden shoes, that you heard footsteps. Looking up, you saw her. She looked older after all this time as you were sure that you yourself did as well, but you could still recognize her immediately. You could have recognized her anywhere, even without the yappy little dog at her feet to give her away. You could feel it in her warmth, the way that she radiated light and health and happiness. She smiled sadly at you, her gazing running you up and down before slowly lifting to the sky and the roiling mess of storm clouds that had gathered themselves over your head. 

Slowly, the pressure on your shoulders began to lift and the storm clouds overhead began to calm, the sun she carried with her beginning to peek through those small but ever widening gaps in the gray. The rain slowed and stopped altogether. You were the man with the raincloud over his head and she was the girl who brought the sun, even though you never learned her name and it would be far too long before you would ever see her again, although you would never again need her so much as you did in that moment. The next day, when the weatherman (he was new, eyes flitting anxiously around the studio checking with things that you couldn’t make out and didn’t care to see; what happened to the last, dead- eyed weatherman you haven’t found out and still don’t care to know) skeptically yet safely predicted rain, you could hardly hear him. You found yourself at the window, a smile for the first time in a long time gracing your lips at the sight of those cloudless blue skies.