Water

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
They first met when it was raining. Then all became water.

Submitted: April 26, 2015

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Submitted: April 26, 2015

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Ash-colored clouds were gathering above the city at an outstanding speed, making it look as if the sky itself was trying to run away from the grayness that was the metropolis. People were on the move as well, quickly pacing through the streets, trying to get home or wherever with a roof over their heads before the rain comes. A girl with a big red dotted scarf was also in a rush, trotting through the now half-empty square. She promised them not to be late this time, and yet it was already twenty minutes past seven as she was crossing the street. A few cold drops reached her face, but she didn’t worry as the big neon sign with the pub’s name in big white letters was now visible. She went down the stairs passing a couple of smoking guys, and opened the door the same second it started pouring. A bartender quickly poured her a drink, she sat down beside her friends and so the evening started.

She was waiting for another beer, leaning against the bar with a note in her hand when two guys approached her and asked whether they could join her and her friends as there were no seats left. One of the guys, the one pulling the Kurt Cobain look with his long blondish hair, sat next to her while the other one, the one she liked better, sat in the midst of her girlfriends. She exchanged a few phrases with the Cobain guy, focusing more on the other guy, Matthew, who was one of those really extroverted people and soon became the life and soul of their table. There was constant giggling, and story-telling, the next story being even more outstanding than the previous one. A few things that Matthew was talking about didn’t add up, but she could see that her girlfriends were completely mesmerized, so she didn’t say anything about it, or maybe she wanted to feel mesmerized too, and so if the truth were to be said out loud everything would fall apart. The Cobain guy smirked every time his friend would start telling some kind of bizarre story, they were allies in this battle of false stories, no, falsified stories.

She went out for a smoke. The Cobain guy approached her and stood next to her. For a few seconds there was silence, and she felt the need to say something, anything, so that there wouldn’t be this strange tension around them. She was opening her mouth to comment on the weather, but he was faster.

“Do you enjoy rain?”

“Hell no. May hair gets all curly and it’s wet everywhere and cold too. Why would I?” She said brushing her long brown, slightly wet by now hair from her face.

He chuckled.

“I feel relaxed when it’s raining. It’s funny, though. The rain itself, or rather, the water, is never calm.”

“How so?”

He put the cigarette to his lips, inhaled, then exhaled.

“Think about it, it’s constantly on the move, rushing towards something. And it’s very dependent, too. By itself it’s formless and soulless, it needs something that would shape it, give it some kind of form, some meaning, be it a certain container, like this puddle, or a certain temperature. Without all that, it would just run away or disappear completely and that’s that. Just like people. That’s why I like rain.”

“Because you can relate?”

He chuckled again.

“Well, can’t you?”

She didn’t answer.

The last smoke was blown into the air and they got back inside. Matthew suggested going to the club with him and the Cobain guy, and of course everyone agreed, well, except her. She would always be eager to spend the whole night out, being one of the last to leave, yet when the Cobain guy asked her whether she would go with them, she refused. They waited for her taxi to arrive; she got in and it started moving. Feeling restless she turned back and caught a glimpse of him turning to the opposite direction from everyone else, which made her feel even more restless, and she wasn’t quite sure why.

It was almost morning, yet for her it was still a night time, or, to be exact, finally a night time. The evening rain hadn’t stopped yet and she could hear droplets falling on her window glass. Apart from that, it was deadly silent. No weird creaking sounds, no strange rustling, nothing; just rain and herself in her little lonely sofa bed. At a time like that even her loud neighbors were bound to be asleep. She could feel her throat drying out, so she got up, took a glass and poured some water in it. Greedily she drank all of it at one go, wiped her mouth, poured another one and took it with her to the room. She placed it on top of the night table and sat on her bed, head in her hands. She looked at the glass and realized that she had become water.


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