Rain

Late afternoon on into early evening, we watch massive, water-dense clouds roll and roil overhead. A matter of minutes will turn this from a dreary day's waning into an evening amalgamation of oversize droplets pattering, massive street puddles forming, children remembering they have galoshes somewhere in the recesses of their closets, and us, standing under the gathering torrents, our clothes absorbing so much water that we begin to shiver despite the warmth of the evening.

Midnight Meanderings

The sky has gone dark and I assume there are clouds, because I cannot see the stars. Hours pass gradually, and I walk along this lane, empty but for the two of us, her small hand curled inside my fingers. A whisper, under her breath, but I hear it all the same. There is no breeze and sound carries well here. I nod in silent agreement. We have both become silent of late, accustomed to stillness, quietude.

A mangy brown puppy hobbles out into the light of a street lamp ahead of us. I look at her then back at the pup. She sees it too. We slow our pace, hoping not to frighten it. But when we are finally close enough, the little dog bolts off into the night anyway.

I smile at her, but she does not return the smile. The sad look has returned to her eyes. The look she gives me sometimes, but which is more often reserved for recollections of friends past, whether dead and buried or simply lost to the throes of convenience. I ask her, Why are you sad? She smiles and denies it, but the look does not leave her big brown eyes, as they flicker with the flashes of the next street lamp, which struggles to stay alight.

Finally, she says, Let's go home. And I relent. Even without a breeze, the air has a chilled bite to it, so we turn and retrace our steps. The pup does not return, but we both stop once more under its street lamp to look out into the darkness for it. We kiss gradually. A single strand of her hair finds its way across our lips, and we adjust, she is brushing the strand behind her ear, I am placing palms on her cheeks.

Soon, we finish the walk. At our front door, still surprised that it is our door and not her door or my door, we pause. It will be a moment before I fumble for the key in my pocket. We do not look at one another, but rather at the door, distractedly.