The honks of cars ran across the street, but the cars themselves stood statuelike, frozen by the violence of the noise. The silver sky roared with rain. Thunderous applause followed the sublime song. It was actually quite horrid. Newspapers flew into lamp posts and unsuspecting faces, flailing wildly upon impact. Umbrellas were uprooted — snatched from feeble hands in fiendish fashion. Birds were dark strokes in the sky, quickly retreating as if into the clouds.
I stood on the pavement outside a café with my arms wrapped around me. I looked up and saw clouds. I looked down and saw contrast: my muted reflection against the animated sky. I imagined then that the sky had a heart unlike my own, one that thundered with life.
“You wait long?” asked a voice.
I looked up, eyes fluttering. I turned. He stood there, mere breaths away from me, twiddling his thumbs.
“Still up for that Americano?”
I crossed my arms in protest, refusing to look at him.
“You’re late.”
I spat out the words with a sharp ferocity. However, he was the kind to see a tiger bare its fangs and compliment its stripes. And this tiger was weak for compliments.
“And you’re pretty. What’s new?”
A warmth consumed me, bubbling from the depths of my toes to the top of my head like magma crawling out of a volcano. What is this feeling? Am I running a fever? My heart crashed to my stomach like fine china and shivered loudly like temple bells struck by a beam.
“Just you wait,” I said, pulling my sleeve up.
I ran towards him, but my sneakers had different plans, as their soft soles slid across the asphalt. As if I hadn’t fallen hard enough, now I was en route to doing so literally. But he caught me in his arms. Then, like petals unfurling during a bloom, my fingers rolled open. I felt lighter.
“Easy there. Don’t want to take back that part about you being pretty.”
I looked up at him.
“Watch it, mister,” I said, softly rebuking his teasing.
“Of course,” he replied.
I deflated, the tension bleeding out of my muscles. Like a soft drizzle, his eyes fell on mine. There was a certain warmth in this cruel rain — an invisible sunshine. He was here on this rainy day, a day when even the mighty sun hid. He was here, right beside me.
My face quivered, and I broke into laughter, as tears ran through the rain that coated my face. He held me at my arm’s length, scanning my face. I tried to return the curiosity.
“Find anything?” I asked. “Once a pretty face, always a pretty face.”
“Say that to the pavement you nearly fell onto,” he said.
Sniffling, I smiled. My back to him, hands on my knees, I turned to the pavement.
“Once a–”
He cut me off with a hug and buried his chin in my shoulder.
“Where did that come from?” I asked.
“Behind.”
Smiling, I sighed and shook my head.
“Oh, you love it,” he said. “You love me.”
I could hear his smug smile when he spoke, and I let myself melt back into him.
“Yeah.”
A happy shiver coursed through my body like a ripple.
“You must be cold,” he said.
His words drummed against my heart, like fingers against wood. The timbre of his words calmed its erratic percussion. As the rain pattered against my skin, I worried that I had bloomed an ugly blush of red. An inflammation of that nature was dangerous. Avoid those at all costs.
“Nope,” I said, chuckling.
Desire lapped at my feet like waves, tugging at my ankles to take a step. Warmth twirled in my chest, as if my heart were a well-lit hearth. His every word, like lumps of coal, nurtured the fire. With every passing moment, his face promised to be an eternal image in my mind.
“Let’s get out of this rain,” he said, motioning to the patio umbrella outside the café.
I nodded, smiling as if we were partners-in-crime, executing our secret little plan. A few moments later, we stood huddled together under the umbrella. Nestled in his arms, I was afraid that my cold body robbed him of his warmth. Does he not feel cold? Is he okay like this? I wondered. Embarrassed, I buried my nose in his cashmere scarf.
“What’s up? Entering hibernation or something?” he asked.
I smiled. I dug my fingers into his scarf, pulling myself closer to him. I pushed an elbow behind, a peony pink clouding my face, and punched his chest softly. Then, I slowly looked up.
Water streamed down the curls of his hair, blessing it with a glaze in its wake. Raindrops sat on his eyelashes like fresh dew on grass. He was like those rain-stained glass panes, like cold glass wearing even colder rain. The colour of traffic danced in his eyes, slowly pulsing. I wished I could hide there from this downpour.
Raindrops slipped off strands of his hair and sprinkled onto my cheeks. My face was frozen in place, but my heart surged with colour. If it weren’t for the limits of human anatomy, my heart would have leapt out of my body and into his arms.
“The rain seems stubborn. We’ll be here a while.”
I smiled, turning my face to the sky, my eyes falling more softly on the harsh rain.
“It’s nice.”
My mother used to scold me because I always forgot my umbrella on rainy days. But, if I were to go home to her tonight, she would be happy that, for once, I found an umbrella.