A short spell of rain improves the overall mood of a person. The gentle, cool breeze fanning our faces, blowing away the miseries and stress in the air. With the freshness of rain, it washes away the dusty roads and dusty souls, leaving us with a purified soul, woven with a sense of calmness and serenity.
People love rains.
But she was a different cosmic being in herself. The rebel child of nature, one who didn't like confirming to the rules laid down by someone else if they didn't make sense to her or weren't in alignment with her logic.
Simple is elegant but simplicity is not rigid.
She hated when it rained. For it reminded of the pot holed roads, the homeless people and animals alike- succumbing to the cold and unhygienic drains. For them, rain wasn't purifying them, it was stripping them off the comfort and solace. Rain wasn't rain for them.
It was their swan song.
She thought about her father who had to respond when the government calls, go for night duties and ensure municipalities were not shirking their work that might cause inconvenience for the civilians.
However, she loved the crisp, chill in the air, the slight relief from the blazing heat on a summer afternoon, right before the water starts transcending from the sky. The rutheless Sun would pave way to hide itself amongst the clouds. She loved the moment right before it rained.
And when it did, she would find herself getting lost in Paula Fox and Jane Austen. Her go to reads for the dreary weather. A cup of steaming coffee and chocolate chip cookies would inject sugar in her system, making the coldness of the weather a little warm.
So, when someone would ask her 'Who is he to you?'
She would look outside the foggy window, dotted with speckles of rain, a little rainbow getting captured in every droplet.
With a soft smile, from her lips to her chocolate eyes, she would turn back, tuck a strand of hair behind her ear that had fallen out of her messy braid and look them in their eyes and whisper,"He is the mellow of the rain falling, a soft whisper of the gentle wind. He is the warmth I feel after a sip of tea; he is the wisdom I gain from Jane during the rainy afternoons."
She would pause, take a sip from the hot tea, lick the sweet concoction from her lips and continue,
"He is the silver lining in my worst times."
~ f.k. 13:13
YOU ARE READING
The Fabled Flamingo
Short Story"It's not my words that you should fear, but my silence. My words speak straight to the core but my absence will leave you speechless." ― Nikki Rowe _________________ Sometimes, when it's brittle and cold outside and our insides are craving warmth...
