The sky cracks open.
Suddenly-
I’m standing there—
Arms outstretched. Eyes closed. Face tilted upward.
Cold drops of rain strike my skin like tiny silver needles. Each one feels like a fleeting sting.
A reminder-
That I’m still here.
Still alive.
The sound of water tapping against my ears is rhythmic.
Almost sacred.
It’s the only music left now.
I breathe in.
The air contains a beautiful scent of wet earth.
That ancient fragrance of petrichor—
Like the world itself is sighing.
For a moment.
I forget the weight of my bones.
I’m not a person but a vessel.
Hollowed out and filled with rain.
Then, her voice.
Not aloud.
Not even a whisper.
Just a ghost of memory curling through the storm.
“I want to feel the pouring rain.”
My chest tightens.
A sorrowful smile-
Spreads across my face.
Of course-
She’d say that.
She always loved how rain could erase boundaries.
How it blurred the lines between sky and skin.
“Let’s get soaked together,” she murmurs. “Let these cool drops wash it all away. Just for today, let’s pretend we’re not broken.”
And just like that, I let go.
The rain becomes a shroud.
A liquid silence where nothing else exists.
Not the empty chair at the kitchen table.
Neither the voicemails I’ll never delete.
Nor the last time I held her hand.
Already cold in a way no sunlight could fix.
It’s just me and the rain now.
I open my eyes.
The world is a watercolor.
Streetlights smeared gold, pavement glistening like a black mirror.
Somewhere, a car rushes past.
Tires hissing against the wet road.
Life goes on.
But here, under this weeping sky, time stretches thin.
I could stand here forever. Half-drowned. Half-healed.
She’s gone.
Far, far away.
And there’s no coming back now.
But the rain?
The rain always returns.
-Naseer