The Rain Fell In Waves

The rain fell in waves, rather than drops. It felt like he was standing on a shore at the beech instead of the middle of the city. It was quiet except for the roar of the rain. The boy shivered in his coat but didn’t move. He didn’t want to move.

The water made love to the boy’s dark locks before dropping down to the top of his nose and sliding down like a kid on a waterslide. The boy’s wavy hair shivered into curls in the cold, frigid, and wet weather. It turned and danced before falling flat upon the boy’s head because the water was too heavy to carry upon his shoulders.

The boy’s cheeks and nose turned a fiery red as the blood in his body desperately tried to warm his skin and then maybe the rest of the world, too. The water almost melted against him, like it was Spring reaching for a warm Summer. The water clung as hard as it could to the boy’s eyelashes before it jumped onto the boy’s cheeks. The faux tears sang a sad song all the way down to the boy’s chin before facing death.

The boy’s hands shivered, and the long nimble fingers tapped in sync to the rhythm of the raindrops, remembering long nights of piano playing his mother forced him to go through. There might have been a time where he would have despised the sound, but playing the sounds of the rain got his heart beating again. Rusty after years of sitting still in the locked closet that was his chest. This wasn’t the same sound, no. This was better.

The boy finally moved his body and his body ached in thanks. A little fire started in him, warming, not only his heart but his hopes and dreams as well. He put one foot in front of the other and pushed through the stiffness in his muscles. The rain continued to fall, but it lost the boy’s attention as the boy looked forward. He could see the blue roof and the white windows in the distance. The curtain in the window fluttered. He was going home.