The Mistake That Broke Me

Chapter Thirty Six: Rain

Song: Angel With a Shotgun by The Cab

"S t o p    a s k i n g   m e    t o   t r u s t   y o u   w h e n   

I ' m   s t i l l   c o u g h i n g   u p   w a t e r   

f r o m   t h e   l a s t   t i m e    y o u 

 l e t   m e   d r o w n" 

* * *

His voice completed the storm around us, for it sounded like thunder. His eyes were glossy, looking wet and glittered like the rain drops that momentarily catch on the light before darkening when it collides with the shaded pavement below.

He was close. So close to me now, looking into my eyes as he squatted down in front of me. His eyebrows furrowed together as he looked at my face, and he surprised me when he gently swiped the pad of my thumb under my eyes.

"You've been crying." He states.

"Those are just raindrops." I say, looking away from him and locking my arms tighter around my legs. My voice betrays me, though, because it cracks and sounds scratchy.

Clear evidence that I have, in fact, been crying.

His presence brings the smell cigarette smoke and leather. Bad memories are acquainted with the smell of cigarette smoke, and I shudder.

He seems to not know how to react. I guess it would be hard to know how to deal with these kinds of situations when he's not very outwardly compassionate.

He sighs and stands up, straightening out his jacket and looking down the street in the direction I had come from. I glance up through my heavy lashes and watch as he cages the small, flicker of a flame with his palm. He shields it from the wind and the rain and lights a cigarette.

"You're far from home." He says, his voice deep and monotone.

I don't answer, instead, I just sit on the frigid payment and try to hide the fact that my shivers are becoming violent and are chilling me to the bone. Colton looks relatively dry, telling me that he has shelter - or has found shelter somewhere near here.

His back faces me now, and his head looks like it is hung low. His hair looks darker due to the fact that it slightly wet, and it is messy from the hoodie that he always desperately clings to. 

The smell of his cigarette is diluted from the scent of the rain falling around us, and I breathe in the fresh, slightly tainted and cold air. The cigarette smoke follows the direction of the wind and I watch as it swirls, fading off into the wind as quickly as it was born.

It reminds me how life is short. A vapor in the wind is all we are, easily crushed and discarded when the time on the clock runs out.

Silence cocoons the both of us as we listen to the lullaby the storm sings. The gentle hum of the distant freeway, the swaying of the little maple trees that line the sidewalk, the buzzing of an old, flickering light-bulb that belongs to the streetlamp.

All those sounds and more drags me deeper into the realm of thoughts, and I can only assume that Colton is as lost in thought as I am. Buried thoughts that will never see the light of day. Unspoken words that our lips are too afraid to speak. Dark memories that we wish could be forgotten.

We are two broken people in the world, trying to find our way. We are different, but we are not. We are opposites, but we are not. We are alive, but we are not. Words fill our minds, yet we are unable to speak.