Good-Bye

This week’s Red Writing Hood prompt was to write a fiction or creative non-fiction piece influenced by the idea of rain. The word-limit was 400 words. In addition to the word, they provided three rain-related songs. The songs were: “Set Fire to the Rain” (Adele), “Rain” (Madonna), and “Blame It on the Rain (Milli Vanilli). As I detest Madonna, and Milli Vanilli did not inspire me, I listened to Adele over and over again. Her song inspired easily enough, but it was a struggle to stay within the 400 word limit. (Please excuse all the grammar and punctuation errors)

Good Bye

I scream your name. My lips gently travel over your magnetic body. I can’t draw myself away. I exhale as my tongue explores the recesses of your navel. I want to run out into the rain – away from you. The rain batters against the windows trying to get in, whispering my name. I want to cry, I want you, I want to go. You hold my head between your hands. I’m sucked into the black-hole.

Out in the rain, I watch you: standing at the curb, drawing on your cigarette as water rushes below your feet. I want to trace the outline of your cheekbones with my finger. I stay where I am. I wish I had an umbrella. I’d pull you under and we’d walk away together in the rain. You don’t look at me. Heavy, black clouds shroud the sky. The rain is unrelenting; cold and hard against the skin. Your hand slices through the wet air. I look toward the approaching vehicle. Silently  you glance at me, throw your cigarette down. I step out of the doorway.  I look up at the unforgiving sky and take a huge breath. You put your hand down as the cab stops. We face one another with only the rain between us. You take my bag from my shoulder. I look into the blackness of your eyes. They set fire to my heart. I look away. With a whisper, “I have to go,” I turn away. You pull me into you and kiss me. For a moment: the clouds break, the sun shines, I am set on fire. You pull away and I stand there watching you, etching your image into my soul. Still the dark clouds loom overhead, rain pours cold and hard. You open the cab door and throw my bag on the seat. “Good bye,” I say. You grab my hand, tell me if I never see you again it’s my own fault. You never asked me to leave. I give a weak nod and get in the cab. As it drives away I watch you from the window. You don’t move. The rain pours over you. I’m about to tell the driver to stop and rush back to your arms and let myself be sucked into the black-hole. Then lightning flashes across the sky and the cab turns the corner.

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