photograph [h.s]

vi

i've always loved the rain. the sound of it and the scent it left behind.
my mind felt so much tranquil and calmer at the sound of tiny drops hitting the ground.

when i was little, i used to think that rain represented Angels tears, so i went out with a bucket and stayed for hours under the rain, wanting to give the Angels back their tears.

i guess that tradition never died out, since i'm here now, sitting on the sidewalk as the rain fell on me.

i spread my hands in front of me, watching the cold water drop on them.
how funny that something people believed to be a sign of sadness brought so much happiness and serenity to my life.

i heard footsteps behind me, followed by a deep voice.

"you shouldn't be out right now; you might catch a cold."

i smiled and shrugged without turning back.

"i guess i don't do what i should, i do what i please," i said lighting a cigarette.

"you're lucky," he said. "i wish i had no strings attached."

"believe me, i've had my share of strings attached. sometimes you just have to let them go and leave everything behind," i let out some smoke from my lungs. "for your own good."

"maybe you're right. maybe that's why i'm having some sort of philosophical conversation with a stranger under the rain."

that's when i looked at him.
and when i did, my heart dropped and my stomach churned.
it was him.
the boy from my photograph.
the boy from my photograph was standing right in front of me.
and now, now, i was speechless.