Rain

Clear the canvas and prepare for rain. There outside the windshield stand the clouds ready to pour their heart out. As the car moves, the drops start to increase in slanted fashion. It seems more like dew. Feeling protected inside the car the wipers start to do their job and push away the downward tears. As each wiper pushes the drops and a new vision appears, the crystals appear faster making it impossible for the wiper to catch up. The wipers speed is increased but buckets reign on the windshield and the wipers chase the falling rain as much as the rain chase them.

The sound surrounds the car as the gush of rain pushed on each side of the car rendering the experience like a science fiction movie, not knowing exactly what the outcome will be and whether it will be better or worse. The highway looks like it is being washed over and over again, as if it gains and erases color instantly. Then the tapping on the car’s top sometimes feels like fingers of a giant coming around knocking or light footsteps of a toddler taking first steps.

As the car slides by people into the city streets, sights of people come who run from one side in the street to another side, umbrella up in arms. There seems to be a gracious butterfly movement as they battle the elements, letting themselves have the upper hand to reach their destination. As the torrents increase, the water chases itself in hordes to the drains, as if an AI painted this picture as an amusement park ride in a museum for Gothic temperament.

The car reaches the destination, and then whatever was in the trunk was reached for, soaking wet as they were. So? Blame it on the rain. Everyone grabs their stuff and rush to the place they’re staying in, where rain grandeur can appear behind a solid window. They run unprotected and the rain hits them anyway it can, and they slide arms and elbows pushing away the drops.

In the elevator, they look at their shoes, now with the color of rain, and smile as they try to figure how to get in without causing a mess. Once they got past that, they got their affairs in order. It seemed like rain is now apologizing for what it had done and slowing it down a bit. The sound goes down to a whisper, and it seemed like rain is making amends with the world.

A few hours later, it withdrew the apology and sent torrents tearing through the evening sky. It engulfed every region within the sight with the masterful ability to hold back sun, struggling to make it back to full view. It sound of increased rain was like a cry of war that would never stop. The window withstood the attack and the ducts appeared slanting, announcing the beginning of a new onslaught. The more it ended, the more it started.

Then through the glass window, the waves kept coming, as if they were giant hand fist after another, and everything within sight, people and things, seemed like chess pieces being moved around by a pro, but with speed of a seasoned video game player. Rain was falling down but it seemed to facing forward, as more and more of it just kept sweeping in several directions including the apartment’s window.

Then rain prepared to move to another place and visit other people. It left where it was leaving people with memories as they pondered why they loved and feared it so much. How it was a welcome change and a dreaded one it all once. How it was the source of life and the initiation of inconvenience. More rain, more gain? Or more rain, less pain?