My Melancholic Post.
I like the rain, especially the dawning of rain. Everything about it. The dark and overcast sky with its grey monotone clouds. The cool and refreshing breeze caressing my skin. The melancholy smell of rain. It feels like something out of an 18th century photograph, and I feel brought back in time, if not frozen in time. Everything is disrupted when the rain suddenly approaches. Umbrellas are opened. People start running for shelters, frantically. No one wants to get drenched, especially when they're meeting others. It's irritating. But then a girl stands in the street solitarily, her eyes closed, face raised to the heavens, hands outstretched, really soaking in the rythm and soul of the falling rain. She's lost in time and space. Oblivious to the hustle and bustle, oblivious to the rain soaking to her skin. Her plan has not changed. She wants to be still and calm despite the rain, to be enjoying the rain. She didn't care if people thought she was crazy, if she stood out from the crowd, alone. Someone walks up to her and taps her gently on her shoulder. 'I'll join you', he says. It wasn't a question, it was a statement. That decisiveness caught her, attracted her. She knew she didn't have to, but nonetheless she replied, 'okay'. Even though they had barely known each other, she felt connected to him in a special sort of way. This was someone who, like her, knew how to appreciate things that were different and unexpected. Who was willing and daring enough to come out of his comfort zone to be with her. Who knew that though she looked strong and comfortable being alone, actually longed for someone to spend such moments with. And not just anyone. But him. She looked on as he mimicked her previous stance. 'I never knew this could feel so good', he agreed. 'Being with me?' she teased. 'No, being in the rain', he rebuked with a smile. Soon, they were splashing each other and laughing genuinely, delighting in the rain and each other's presence.