Cold September Rain

This story…just how will it end?

"I don't know her. But I think I am in love with her."

"You don't know her? What exactly are you falling in love with then?"

"Her eyes…her voice…her hair…the drive in her eyes…"

"But you don't even know her."

"But I feel as if I have known her forever."

I sipped my tea, and looked out of the window. "Seems like it is going to rain the whole night."

**

The slightest of drizzle. Upon my face. Rejuvenating.

Maybe today, maybe today... I will tell him.

"I wonder sometimes if deep down inside, she is nursing some deep wound."

"Why?"

"She doesn't smile a lot, and when she is with her friends, she somehow seems to be distant, in her own world. There seems to be a barrier. A barrier she has put up around herself. Like she has chosen to be alone…for some reason or another."

"And?"

"I want to heal her pain…because I think a girl like her…shouldn't be alone, hurting."

**

Do you know I am here, hurting? Every single word you say hurts. But still I long to hear your voice.

"I saw her today. She was sitting alone by the lake, cutting a forlorn figure. I watched as a man came to her, and sat beside her. They sat together like that for a while when she suddenly turned, and buried her face in his shoulder. It was then that I realized: there was no reason for me to stay anymore."

**

"I saw her today. We were separated by the glass. But she looked up and saw me. Her eyes seemed to be asking, 'You will wish me happiness, right?'

"Why don't you leave? I need some time alone."

The glass has fallen, broken.

**

But I tried to pick it up, piece by piece. Even if I may cut myself in the process.

There she is, across the street, the girl with the blonde hair and eyes that talk, pushing her bicycle along.

I have been waiting for her.

I start to cross the street.