RainA Story by T. Greyman Love isn't as powerful as you might think. It comes in varying levels.
The bus pulls up to the stop.
You climb on and scan your card without even looking at the driver. It's an early start, you're tired and grumpy, the bags under your eyes and the scowl you wear on your face tells it. You're not a morning person and it shows. The weather reflects your mood. Cold, grey, and the rain does nothing to help matters. Find a seat, easy enough. You go straight for the one towards the back that's completely empty so no-one will be sitting directly next to you. Better hope it stays that way. Take your seat, look out the window and avoid eye contact with anyone near you. That's the way it goes. There's something about buses that instantly makes you bleak and withdrawn, like a barrier that sucks most of the emotion out of you, leaving you not exactly empty, but just uncaring. You change the song on your iPod to something you've probably listened to countless times before, the predictability is a little comforting. And you stare out the window. Small raindrops are falling across the window, you follow them with your eyes and smile a little. Does it remind you of your childhood? When you'd watch them have a little race you always rooted for a particular drop, sometimes it won, sometimes it didn't. You probably cheated a little and rooted for the one closest to the bottom. Your nostalgic game takes you back. Your childhood, when you still had fun. You didn't have to fear responsibility, fear independence, and your social life was empowered by the cool toys you owned or the funniest jokes you made. The bus door opens, don't look around. But you do, you always do but you're not sure why. Someone steps in, a young, short woman in a hoodie with shoulder length hair soaked and poking from the sides of the hood. She turns away from the driver and looks for an empty seat. She notices you, you notice her. Your eyes lock for a second, just a second. You feel perhaps compassion, lust, a dull form of love even? You notice her sharp, blue eyes that pierce into you, even though they clearly itch with tiredness. Her shabby, rushed outlook and that quick make-up job she put on this morning. Not a morning person. You look into each other, even though the time was small it was enough for you to feel deep affection. I'm here to tell you that she felt it as well. But that's stupid, you've never believed in the concept of soulmates, have you. She sits somewhere behind you, finding a spare seat of her own so no-one is sitting next to her. You think, "If I just stood up and sat next to her...", your mind probably going wild over a stranger at this point for no real reason, you're not lonely or a hopeless romantic. But you still picture yourself making conversation, it's not awkward. You ask her for coffee, something simple. She says she can't, but there's something about you that intrigues her. She gives you her number if you ever want to hang out, you text her a few days later, you hit it off, start dating, grow up, get married, have kids. This doesn't happen. You remain in your seat, looking out that window. You watch the rain as it goes down that window to the end. That cold raindrop which fell from so high, only to hit a wall and travel its way down to the end. Just like you.
© 2013 T. GreymanFeatured Review
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10 Reviews  Last Updated on March 9, 2013 Tags: Love, Loneliness, Sadness, Hope Author
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