Rain and thunder

Trying and failing for the tenth time that evening to tie a simple tie, Mickael slumped on his bed and sighed in frustration. Tonight, he had to attend yet another elaborate company gala, which, unfortunately for him, meant spending a ridiculous amount of time choosing an appropriate outfit and doing his best to look like a CEO. Even though he'd been running Dynamics Inc. for over a year, Mickael had hardly got accustomed to the tremendous amount of requirements that came with the job. In his eyes, he had never been cut out for the position. He could never be interested in writing annual budget reports, fraternising with investors and attending tedious board meetings. The one thing that ignited a fire in his heart was science, but presently, that was only a distant memory. As he finally managed to assemble a decent outfit, a stray thought was occupying his mind. Had the accident not have happened, would this have been his life? Would he have got the chance to follow his passion?

Ever since he could remember, Mickael had had a love for the technical processes in the world. During his childhood, he had wondered why had the wheels of a bike spun and how could a light fixture be turned on and off using a plain switch. Rather than spending his time playing outside with his peers, he'd opted for reading indoors or tinkering in his parent's garage. His conscious and unconscious thoughts had always revolved around inventing. He'd frequently imagined himself bettering the world. The young boy dreamt of using his knowledge for good and improving people's lives. High school certainly had proven to be a challenging period in Mickael's life. On the one hand, at every corner, a new opportunity awaited him. His dedication and persistence were highly appraised by his teachers, many of whom offered encouragement and guidance. The teenager never ceased to work relentlessly, not for achieving good grades, but for expanding his knowledge and mindset. Unfortunately, he wasn't well regarded by many of his classmates. At first, his academic achievements had brought about numerous offers of friendship. However, soon all proved to hide a malicious intent. He'd never been too keen to fit in with others, but such treatment had made him mistrust people and, ultimately, left him on his own. His time at university hadn't been any better. Nevertheless, a key difference was that he'd finally been granted the chance to start making changes in the world, small and barely noticeable, but still meaningful changes. One of his lecturers had even helped him with an application for an incredible, once-in-a-lifetime internship programme at NASA. In fact, Mickael had been making the final arrangements when disaster stuck - unexpected, fast and world-shattering.

Despite it being a year after the catastrophe and the perilous phone call that wrecked his life, the memory still brought tears to his eyes. Sad, bitter tears of pain and regret, torturing and reminding him of the one thing he could not have, the one thing his ridiculous amount of money could not buy - a family. Twelve months ago, he'd had it all - loving, supportive and devoted parents, an adoring sister of whom he thought the world and her boyfriend, who was coincidentally his best and only friend. His life had been the epitome of perfection until fate had decided to take it all away. They'd all been preparing for a long-awaited trip, but Mickael had had to stay behind due to a last-minute interview. He could still vividly relive their last moments together, hugging them, laughing and messing around, waving as they boarded their private jet. It would only be a week, they'd see each other soon, right? Wrong. Later that same day, he had picked up his phone, and his world had crashed to the ground. A malfunction in the engine and hazardous weather had brought down the plane and left no survivors. A realisation had crept into Mickael's mind - he was, for the first time in his life, utterly and completely alone.

As he neared the venue, some contemporary art gallery, Mikael braced himself for the fake conversations he was about to have, the pretentious smiles reserved for cameras and public appearances and, worst of all, the pitying looks that followed him everywhere. Had the circumstances been different, perhaps he could enjoy the night. There had been a time in his life when he was fascinated by art and even spent hours analysing paintings with his sister. That period, however, had long passed. Nonetheless, whenever he managed to get a moment to himself, away from the prying crowd, Mickael constantly found his gaze wandering around the open space, marvelling at the breathtaking creations and even finding something oddly familiar in them. He could see the joy radiating from each painting, but he could also perceive other underlying emotions - confusion, loneliness, sadness. Something in these masterpieces awakened the curious side of his brain, the one numbed and buried deep down. Suddenly, he wanted to know more about the artist - who they were, what they liked and, most importantly, what inspired them. It might have been due to a year of solitude, but Mickael discovered a striking similarity between his own thoughts and emotions and the ones interlaced in the artworks. In an instant, he made up his mind - he wanted to know more, needed to if only to satisfy a curiosity inside his head. Annoyingly, his quest for the mysterious artist had proven fruitless. After questioning more than fifty people, he'd learned that, apparently, she was at the gala, at least he knew it was a woman, but much like himself, did not like to mingle with people. Finally, one man had pointed him towards an outdoor garden. Walking purposefully through the pathways, he nearly missed the faint feminine silhouette glinting in the moonlight. He spotted waves of chestnut-brown hair cascading down along broad shoulders and felt an enigmatic force drawing him near. Each step felt heavier than the previous one, but before he could speak, a deafening thunder broke the serene silence.

Seeing her art on display had always felt weird. It never sat right with her. Perhaps it was the fact that hundreds of people would be judging it - either complimenting or criticising. Honestly, neither seemed appropriate to her. Kristen had never painted for anyone but herself. It was her own unique way of expression. Often, it was easier to pick up a paintbrush rather than say something aloud. Kristen had never been the outgoing type, and she certainly wasn't the talkative or confident one. In fact, she was quite timid and insecure when it came to interacting with people. Yet, whenever faced with a black canvas, she knew exactly what to do. Her head cleared, and each step was visible in her mind's eye. There was never any doubt with painting. With a brush in hand, Kristen felt powerful, invincible and ready to conquer any obstacle. She was in her element. Although, the personal nature of her craft could be another reason for her reluctance to share it with the world. Given that she put her body, mind and soul in each painting, she wasn't too keen on having them on display for anyone to see. Her agent had convinced her that tonight's exhibition would bring about massive success, but the only thing she felt as she was surveying the room was emptiness. Kristen was entirely numb to any emotions around her. There was only a gaping hole in her chest, reminding her that she was alone. It was impossible for her to enjoy any amount of success or appreciate any praise. The one person whose opinion she cared about was gone. Her mother - a loving parent, a supportive friend, a guiding hand, had been taken away from her. She'd tried to move on, but how was one supposed to overcome such an experience? 

Kristen had been sixteen when the tragedy happened. After another painfully long day at school, all she craved for was the comfort of her home and her mother's loving embrace. It had always been just the two of them. Her father had left before she was born, but she couldn't care less. Her mother was all she needed. She had always been there for her regardless of circumstances. Whether it was a nightmarish dream in the middle of the night, an annoying argument in class or an award from an art contest, Kristen knew that she had someone to rely on. Thinking back now, her mother had been the one encouraging her passion. It was also the only reason why Kristen had agreed to do this exhibition. She wanted to honour her mother's memory. It was her personal tragedy that could be found underlying in her works. At first glance, they appeared happy, even cheerful - gorgeous sceneries that captivated everyone. However, the ones that dared to look closer would find the outlines of impending doom. A light shade of grey on the edge of the clear sky, a seemingly benign wind on a sunny day - there were always dark clouds looming over. After so many years, it was still a constant theme throughout her art. A metaphorical memorial, a solemn reminder of the devastation nature could cause, of the storm that snuffed the light out of her life.

Suddenly, the room felt too small, too cramped with people, too stuffy to breathe. Kristen aimed for the closest exit and found herself in a lavish garden. Breathing became easier, and she managed to calm down. Her mind was buzzing while her feet absentmindedly carried her along the paved paths. Eventually, she found a secluded spot and sat on a nearby bench, still lost in thought. Kristen barely registered the shuffling that came from behind or the footsteps that followed. She was, however, instantly brought to the present by the roaring thunder that boomed around and the bitter downpour that came with it. In mere seconds, Kristen was shivering, already soaked to the bone. Her mind knew she should move, get inside before something worse had happened, but her body refused to obey. The memories and the pain of her past came flooding in and left her frozen. Kristen didn't see who or from where, but she felt a gentle, strong hand grasp hers, beckoning her to head inside. As if on autopilot, she followed, deciding to trust her unknown rescuer. Kristen didn't know when, but she eventually managed to get out of her trans and take in her situation. Her dress had been soaked, but she was no longer exposed to the rain. Surprisingly, however, Kristen was still tightly clutching a stranger's hand, and upon her realisation, she felt a lot warmer. Then she looked into her rescuer's eyes, and for the first time in forever, she felt understood. Kristen saw the same pain, the same suffering and the same loneliness staring back at her. Something flickered in her heart, and she felt a little less alone. Fate certainly could be an unpredictable thing. Rain and thunder had taken everything from them, and yet, it was the very thing that brought them together.