A Compilation Of Short Stories

Happiness Through The Rain

The heavy rain pounded on the roof of Olivia’s house. The sun was completely hidden behind the thick gray clouds in the sky. The tulips in the front yard drooped under the impact of the downpour.

Olivia sighed, sitting on the window seat in her living room. She looked over at one of the few potted plants she grew indoors. The small green succulent stood idle and healthy. Olivia sighed again and turned to stand up, but a black and white cat walked over to her and jumped on the window seat before she could do so.

“Hi, Mocha,” Olivia said sorrowfully while looking down at her cat.

“Mocha, why did it have to rain today?” Olivia asked Mocha as if she expected him to answer. The tuxedo cat mowed at Olivia, looking at her with a curious expression.

“It has been raining for the last three days almost nonstop,” Olivia continued. “I don’t know if I can take it anymore.” Mocha rubbed up against her side. “Okay, fine,” Olivia told him. He purred as she began to pet him.

Olivia looked at the interior of her dimly lit house. The living room was spacious, her coffee table was empty, and her television was turned off. Olivia’s recliner was folded up and all of Mocha’s toys were stashed away in his cat tree. The living room opened up into the kitchen, where a small table lamp was turned on. The light cast shadows across the walls of the faintly lit rooms. Olivia’s kitchen was simple, with a near-empty table in the corner, the table lamp on top of it, the granite countertops, a plain green backdrop, and a small window above the sink that shelved Olivia’s indoor plants.

Olivia stood up from her seat and walked to the kitchen. Mocha jumped down from the seat and followed her. Olivia opened the refrigerator and looked at the empty shelves inside. Mocha jumped up on the counter next to the refrigerator, sat down, and meowed again. Olivia shut the door and looked at the cat. He looked back with a wistful expression. Olivia patted his head, then walked over to put on her shoes.

“I need to get more food. I hate to go out in this weather, but it seems like I don’t have a choice,” she told Mocha. He merely gazed at her. Olivia put on her boots and a heavy tan jacket. It was always frigid outside during spring; the rain only made it feel colder. She opened the front door, looked at Mocha once more, and ran out the door.

Olivia didn’t own a car; she rarely went far enough away from town to need one. She ran down the muddied cobblestone street, passing several other houses with people inside. She kept running until she reached the center of the small town which consisted of a small loop of cobblestone road with multiple brick buildings around it. Olivia jogged into the general store, her clothes and hair dripping from the rain. The bell above the door dinged as she went in. An older man with a white beard sat behind the store counter. He looked up from his newspaper and jumped at the sight of her.

“Olivia, what are you doing out in this kind of storm?” he said in a worried voice, “You're going to catch a cold.”

“Sorry, Mr. Grant,” she told the man, “Apparently I didn't stock up enough food.”

“Well, take your time and get what you need. You're the first person who’s come in today anyway,” Mr. Grant told her and looked back down at his newspaper. Olivia nodded.

Just as Mr. Grant had implied, the store was empty. Olivia browsed around at the goods, not in any rush to go back out in the rain. She grabbed a loaf of bread, a package of ham, some carrots, and several other food items off the shelves. She walked back over to the counter and set the items on it. Mr. Grant looked up from his newspaper at her.

“So, are you finally ready?” he asked. Olivia nodded. Mr. Grant scanned the groceries one by one. The cash register beeped every time he scanned an item. The new-age equipment looked out of place in the small, old town. When Mr. Grant finished, he put the items into three large paper bags and handed them to Olivia. She, in turn, grabbed the handles of the bags, which dropped to her sides with weight. The two bags in Olivia’s right hand weighed her shoulder down against the mass of the singular bag in her left hand.

Olivia sighed and trudged to the front door. It was still downpouring just as hard as when she had come in.

“Hey," Mr. Grant yelled from behind the counter just before she opened the door. Olivia turned her head to look at the man.

“Do you want a ride home?” he asked.

“Oh, uh, no. You don’t need to give me a ride,” she replied awkwardly.

“Come on, I insist,” Mr. Grant told her as he stood up, “I know you don’t have a vehicle. Plus, I was honestly going to close up shop soon anyway. As I said, you're the only person who’s come in all day.”

“Oh, um, okay. Thank you, ” she told him gratefully but sheepishly.

Mr. Grant grabbed a large umbrella from behind the counter, opened it, and walked outside. Olivia hunkered under the umbrella while they went to the alley next to the store where Mr. Grant parked his beaten-up, yellow compact car during work hours. She set her groceries in the back seat of the car then moved to the passenger door, opened it, and got inside. Mr. Grant jogged around the front of the car, closed his umbrella, and got in the driver's door. He pulled a small key out of his pants pocket and started the car’s engine, which made a faint humming sound that was barely audible compared to the pouring down rain. Mr. Grant put the car into gear, pulling out of the alley and onto the road. The cobblestone streets in the town were empty, neither a person nor a car in sight. Olivia stared silently out the window of the car, watching the buildings and trees as they went by.

“So,” Mr. Grant said, “do you have any plans for when the rain stops?”

“No, not really,” Olivia replied, “Mocha’s been itching to go outside though.”

“Oh, well…” he replied as he kept driving.
After several minutes, the yellow car came to a stop in the road in front of Olivia’s small house. The inside was just as dark as when she had left. The flowers still drooped in the rain and the clouds were still gray. Olivia sighed, then adjusted in her seat so she could get out of the car and grab her groceries.

“Do you need any help? It looked like there were quite a few things in those bags,” Mr. Grant said right before Olivia opened the car door.

“Really? Well, thank you,” Olivia replied, smiling.

The two got out of the car and opened the back seat door. Olivia grabbed two of the bags and Mr. Grant grabbed the third and his umbrella. Then they both closed the back seat doors and ran to Olivia’s porch. They stood on the small porch for a few seconds before Olivia grabbed the door handle and slightly opened the door.

“Thank you, Mr. Grant,” she told the man, taking the bag he was holding in her left arm.

“It was my pleasure,” he replied, “and please, call me Grant.” Olivia nodded.

Grant turned around, ran back to his car, and got inside it. He then backed into Olivia’s empty driveway and turned to go back into town. Olivia waved as he began to drive away then turned to enter her house. The door creaked as it opened, and Olivia slipped into the space between the door and the door frame, leaving just enough of a gap so that she could fit. Mocha sat on the floor in front of the door. He meowed as Olivia shut the door behind her.

“Well,” Olivia said as she set the grocery bags on her counter, “Have you been waiting there the whole time?” Olivia bent down to pet Mocha. She scratched his head, which made him purr as he began to rub up against her leg. Olivia smiled.

She stood back up and looked out the kitchen window. It was still gray and dreary outside. The rain still came down in buckets and the sun was still nowhere to be seen. And yet, for some reason, Olivia felt better than then. Happier than then.