In the Rain - a vignette

Caught completely by surprise, he stood motionless in the rain, his black umbrella shielding him from the downpour. He had been making his way from his apartment to a local pub when he saw her. His heart sank.

She came out of the coffee house across the street, accompanied by an old friend, both of them stopped short by the rain. She threw her purse above her head and with squeals of laughter, the pair ran out onto the sidewalk toward the cars parked along the curb. She stopped abruptly and bent down to scoop up the keys she had just dropped, her thin dress clinging to her in the rain. With her keys in hand she hurried toward her car, unlocking the doors remotely as she ran.

It had been weeks since he'd last seen her. He had been lying next to her on his side, propped up on an elbow, telling her a story. It was some silly observation about nothing memorable, but they both erupted into laughter when he was finished. And now, standing there in the rain, the symbolism did not escape him; from that day to this, from peace to storm.

She's moving, he reminded himself. He always knew she was going. But, how could he have predicted the mark she would make on him. How could he have known that he would love her. And now, she's leaving as if none of it mattered. As if all of those days spent together were like any other day. As if all those talks lasting late into the night, each of them having just one more thing to say, were not extraordinarily different. As if she never told him that she loved him, too.

"I can't believe I considered not going," she told him, after expressing her confusion over their relationship and the move. The pain of her even considering curtailing her dream was evident on her face. So, he had left her, without looking back. And he was angry. She never once asked him about his dreams. She never once asked him where he was going.

From the beginning, he had accepted that she was leaving, he knew that she needed to find her place. But to act as if what they built together was for nothing. To act as if it could all easily happen again, somewhere else, with someone else..

Her car pulled away from the curb and sped down the street, away from him. He slowly dropped his umbrella and the rain began to wash over him. He stood there, staring into the distance long after her car had disappeared into the horizon.

He gave a heavy sigh and turned, closing his umbrella.  In the end, she had failed him.

Slowly he began making the short journey home, dragging his umbrella behind him.