It was dark and it was raining and if it were a different circumstance in a possible different universe, you would’ve hated it. But you were in this one – the realest one – and you both were laughing and running and for a split second, nothing else mattered. You think to yourself, if you could spend the rest of your life just laughing like this, raindrops kissing your cheeks, not caring about the inevitable morning that lies ahead, and the next ones after that, then it wouldn’t be so bad at all. The whole world seems so much brighter despite the rain.

But even though her smile reminds you of the way flowers turn to the sun in spring and she smells like frail hope and a splash of promise, even though she is here and she is laughing and she is real – it’s quite funny how close someone could be to you and yet there is so much distance. You can feel it, as the skies cried and the wind gets harsher, that she would someday pull away. So when she looks at you, millions of words unsaid, hanging above you both in a trail of what if’s, it all shatters down and falls around you with the pouring rain.

Because there was no other reality that existed besides this – you love her, but she belonged to someone else. And when she hugs you her last goodbye, you wished, in that second, that there could be thousands of other moments just like this. You wished time would stop, like it would’ve happened in movies, just so you could hold on to this – to her – just a bit longer. But reality only lets you have two seconds at most, and it was completely unfair, and when she walks away you stand there, frozen, helplessly staring at the empty space that stretches farther and farther between you and her.

There was nothing else, but the rain.

feature image by Pedro Gabriel Miziara
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Cara likes to read, write and laze around in her spare time. She goes into trance whenever she walks into bookstores and antique shops. She hopes to write about many adventures she'll have one day.


  1. Reply


    April 29, 2016

    I think we’re on the same void in the sense that despite having a nice place to write (and for me I could add having feelings to write about), I just can’t let them out. At least today, somehow, I was able to find a small voice from within. I liked the unfinished story and how rained played an important part. I am in love with the rain.

    • Reply


      May 1, 2016

      I am in love with rain, too. (!!!!!) I’ve been hoping for more rainy days lately, partly because rain also helps me in terms of my creative output. I’m glad we had rain last night, I slept peacefully.

      Funny enough, I wrote something last night (out of frustration in an ending of a book I just read, haha I know) and it was surprising. I haven’t written like that in a long time, it feels like. Now I’m just trusting my fingers and trusting my words, that if I have them, they’d be there. I was never good at forcing things out of myself, anyway.