Rain

• Yasmin McAvoy, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2017

The pair were sitting outside of their favourite café. Although the rain had subsided there were still small droplets falling singularly, one by one, as if in perfect time. The translucent tear drops were dripping from the clouds that had fully submerged the sun in the depths of their wispy greyness. He was stirring his tea in such a way that gave her the impression that something was floating in the abyss of the man’s mind.
Still stirring his tea, he looked up at her and murmured quietly, “Do you love me?”
“What do you mean?” the woman asked slightly taken back by the quiet whispers of the man before her.
“Your love, why do you not give your love to me?”
She answered back almost as if it was on cue, “My love,” her voice dropped to a low but compassionate tone, “we have been over this countless amounts of times.”
The pair and their conversation was silenced for only but a moment in time.
The woman spoke up again, “I need some for my family, for my friends, for you, for strangers I have yet to meet and also myself.”
The raindrops became slower and slower, as if not in sync anymore as how they were like before. Time seemed to drag on until the man finally answered back.
“If I cannot have all of your love, then I’m leaving.” The once calm woman sat at their favourite spot, which was in front of their favourite café. Her face proving that she was completely dumbfounded. She was unable to gather a coherent thought and was unable to fathom the request of the selfishness he was asking of her.
But he wasn’t joking. He left, and as he walked away the last droplet of translucent liquid fell from the sky. It became one with the puddle that had been forming. Just like the small pool of water, he was waiting for the other teardrops of love to complete him. What he failed to comprehend was that with even just one drop of his own love, the man would find that he would be complete.