The sound of the rain

The sound of the rain, it was the willow tree which spoke of it first.

Searching for meaning in an empty coffee cup he sat around the busy café contemplating life. The rain now pouring out her dreams and hopes on the clear window as if to only shout out “It is me your searching for!”, but the coffee now gone just as his will for anything but forever. “The rain will eventually stop as well” he thought as the wind slowed down to a gentle hum and the droplets now turned lighter and flowed down the glass, like the memory of her.

He stood up and walked across the empty streets of downtown not going anywhere in specific but walking with a sense of purpose nonetheless. “Maybe I’ll see her empty walk” he thought as he kept walking down the dripping streets. Maybe she hasn’t forgotten the sound of the rain as I did long ago”.

As he kept walking he noticed that the drains, now filled with the suffocating waters, were overflowing with hopes and dreams, and the streets mumbled her name as he splashed through the alley. Everything seemed to stop and stand still as the sun peeked its bright brow from behind the shallow clouds which now moved at a steady pace across the morning sky.

“Hello old friend from the east, I see you’re just as happy to see the clouds roll away as I was that faithful afternoon”. He began reminiscing of a time where the horizon was the only thing which made sense and the thought of her slipped into his clustered thoughts. “If she’s not here with me at least the memories will forever flow down the river of thought”, but the river was now muddied and distorted by his helpless attempts to grab them and drink their essence once again. A bitter taste soon arouse, as a droplet of mud jumped into his mouth from the reckless car driving so fast it made him wonder to whom it was driving to.

His shoes now filled with doubt echoed silently as his steps became heavier and heavier to a point where wearing them seemed useless for his feet also drenched with dirt; and so he took them off. People now staring at his naked feet as he proudly walked the streets only to feel a sharp pain rise up his leg and up into his brain as a piece of glass slashed away at his bare foot.

It was the remains of an old whiskey bottle with its purpose now served remained shattered on the brick walkway, waiting for a fool to stumble upon it. His foot started gushing out blood and the streets began turning red as he walked by the strange people only staring in amazement.

“Oh the sweet aroma of blood fills my breath once again, I have missed your wretched pain just as I have missed the rain and ultimately her. At least you are still here to show me that I can in fact feel pain again. My endless search for numbness is useless with you wondering about.”

He walks back into the café, now not as crowded as before, but with enough eyes that his bleeding foot turns heads around the room. The chattering furiously grew as the floor began soaking in red.

A man offers him some napkins as if that will stop his heart from pumping the syrup like liquid throughout his body and out on the recently mopped floor. He takes them nonetheless and wraps his now swollen foot like a child being tucked in by a loving mother. The waiter approaches him through the staring gazes and offers him a cup of green tea.

“At least the rain has finally stopped”, she said as she places the cup of tea on the tiny table.

Just as the cup touched the table, the rain began furiously beating on the glass windows surrounding the café as if it was trying to break in. The blood outside washed away and dispersed among the sidewalks as people started splashing through in an attempt to stay dry.

“So much for that” she said smiling as the rain now echoed even louder in his ears.

His tongue scorched as the tea made its way into his mouth, wanting to say something, anything! He chokes on the boiling water infused with green leaves. She walks away smiling to herself as the rain slows down once again.

He remembers to blow on the hot tea as he takes another sip trying not to rush anything which can be easily avoided but it was too late now, his tongue numbingly burns as he wonders if tea will give him the same caffeine filled rush he was used to.

The sound of the rain, it was the willow tree which spoke of it first.


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