# 2

Sun has given its way to rain. It is absolutely pouring it down and she is running n down the street. She is soaked, her hair is wet and sticky; her dress almost transparent; you can see the lining of her hips and the shape of her beautiful breasts. And she is carrying shopping bags, loads of them. Her legs are delicate and a small pond of rain-water forms around them as she walks into the coffee shop. First thing she does, takes a pack of smokes out of her tiny bag and lights up a cigarette. I mean she does not even look around. She has no acknowledgement for anyone else. She is looking outside where the rain keeps falling and people keep running. A few minutes pass like this. Quietly people are staring at the rain outside. Its sound is arguing with the music coming from the shop’s old stereo. Then she slowly turns around, picks up her bags and walks over to the counter. A cup of steaming coffee is what she is having, and another cigarette. It had been such a warm, sunny afternoon she is thinking, she despises rain. Romantic-dreamer’s stuff, that’s what she thinks about rain. Herself is not into romance; her heart was once broken by a romantic dreamer you see. Now it’s all about different things.
What if she is actually only pretending to hate rain and fairy-tale stuff? No, it can’t be. Charles spots a gentle whisper of sadness floating around her exquisite face.Suddenly the rain stops and the sun is back at all its glory. She stands up and walks out the door. Just like that. She has not even touched her coffee.

As she is passing by the window the sun strokes her from the side. She is wearing blue silk underwear, underneath her orange summer dress.
Charles is sitting at the corner, by the window thinking about jazz. He feels inspired by her. He takes out a notebook and starts putting down musical notes. Notes that reflect sudden changes, like carelessly strolling under the sun then suddenly running through thick autumn raindrops. Sun appears, and then disappears only for rain to follow again. It’s all tense but beautiful. Then she enters and the notes calm down as a gentle piano melody caresses her eyes and flows down her neck and then hips and legs only to land on the tiny pond of raindrops underneath her feet. Her beauty now takes total control of the piano that is waiting to speak out at the end of Charles hand and draws out herself. Then come the thoughts, his and hers intertwined and gradually the tempo rises as she refuses to accept that she actually loves the rain! Or maybe not. It’s a struggle of one end of the piano with the other, notes flying back and forth; could she be like him or has she forgotten how to fall in love? The piano does not have time to answer as she gets up and walks out, the sun is out again and as it caresses her a sad, whispery melody is born and immediately lays to rest in Charles notebook. He closes it and smiles. He gets up and walks out of the door. It smells like rain.