Rain
Kyle Mayou
She stood on his apartment stoop a little past midnight, pressing the buzzer multiple times in the rain. Her blonde hair now completely drenched along with her vintage pair of chucks. She needed him to answer, she needed to see him right now. She pressed the buzzer for the fifth time, waiting to be let in.
It had started to rain that morning when they had first met on the lower east side of Manhattan. It was late fall and the wind had the classic New England chill, and she craved a decent cup of java. At the coffee shop, she waited in line per usual, silently going over her order to make sure she’d get it right and not embarrass herself. As her turn came up, the man behind her approached the counter and said he’d pay for her beverage. He smiled and she blushed as she told the barista her usual order, a plain black cup of coffee. He paid, and they took a seat at a table and began to talk about literature and how they loved the city. She had found what she had been looking for: admiration.
After the seventh time she rang the buzzer, the golden lights in the apartment three floors above came on. He walked down the stairs slowly, his chestnut hair a mess and his shirt wrinkled. She peeked at him and then at the busy street behind her. What was she going to say? How was she going to tell him how he had captured her dreams and then given them away?
“Claire? What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice still filled with something like sleep.
“I needed to ask you something,” she began.
“Can’t it wait? It’s 3 AM and I have a long day tomorrow. Just call me sometime after six and we can talk.”
“Why did you leave me?” Her voice was stern and aggressive. Her memories began to come back, flooding her mind like the rain that was falling from the sky.
“Are you f@cking kidding me? Go home! It’s pouring and you’re a mess.”
“Why couldn’t you just stay with me and keep your promises like you said you would?” Her tears blended in with the drops that were already on her cheeks. He couldn’t see her vulnerability in the mist that covered the street.
His smile had been seen by another girl. His body had been touched and embraced by another human being who had dreamt about him the same way she did. She had lost him in a sea of deception and persuasion because of a woman in a black cocktail dress.
He closed the door and walked back up the stairs as she stood in the rain, thinking of her broken heart. She turned away and walked into the road as an oncoming cab sped toward her. The driver couldn’t see her just as the man couldn’t see her. Neither of them understood her as a woman who had tried her hardest to mend her pieces back together.
The cab didn’t stop. The last thing she remembered was the sound of the brakes and seeing the lights in the apartment go out. Plunk. Silence. Plunk. The rain had begun to stop, and so did her heartbeat. In that moment, love hadn’t conquered all.
Kyle Mayou
She stood on his apartment stoop a little past midnight, pressing the buzzer multiple times in the rain. Her blonde hair now completely drenched along with her vintage pair of chucks. She needed him to answer, she needed to see him right now. She pressed the buzzer for the fifth time, waiting to be let in.
It had started to rain that morning when they had first met on the lower east side of Manhattan. It was late fall and the wind had the classic New England chill, and she craved a decent cup of java. At the coffee shop, she waited in line per usual, silently going over her order to make sure she’d get it right and not embarrass herself. As her turn came up, the man behind her approached the counter and said he’d pay for her beverage. He smiled and she blushed as she told the barista her usual order, a plain black cup of coffee. He paid, and they took a seat at a table and began to talk about literature and how they loved the city. She had found what she had been looking for: admiration.
After the seventh time she rang the buzzer, the golden lights in the apartment three floors above came on. He walked down the stairs slowly, his chestnut hair a mess and his shirt wrinkled. She peeked at him and then at the busy street behind her. What was she going to say? How was she going to tell him how he had captured her dreams and then given them away?
“Claire? What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice still filled with something like sleep.
“I needed to ask you something,” she began.
“Can’t it wait? It’s 3 AM and I have a long day tomorrow. Just call me sometime after six and we can talk.”
“Why did you leave me?” Her voice was stern and aggressive. Her memories began to come back, flooding her mind like the rain that was falling from the sky.
“Are you f@cking kidding me? Go home! It’s pouring and you’re a mess.”
“Why couldn’t you just stay with me and keep your promises like you said you would?” Her tears blended in with the drops that were already on her cheeks. He couldn’t see her vulnerability in the mist that covered the street.
His smile had been seen by another girl. His body had been touched and embraced by another human being who had dreamt about him the same way she did. She had lost him in a sea of deception and persuasion because of a woman in a black cocktail dress.
He closed the door and walked back up the stairs as she stood in the rain, thinking of her broken heart. She turned away and walked into the road as an oncoming cab sped toward her. The driver couldn’t see her just as the man couldn’t see her. Neither of them understood her as a woman who had tried her hardest to mend her pieces back together.
The cab didn’t stop. The last thing she remembered was the sound of the brakes and seeing the lights in the apartment go out. Plunk. Silence. Plunk. The rain had begun to stop, and so did her heartbeat. In that moment, love hadn’t conquered all.