untitled fiction
waiting for the bus is never fun. it is either too hot, cold, muggy, windy, something. the shelter overhanging the seat usually made it worse. except today, since it was about to rain.
henry had been here a long time already. quietly, he had felt the air around him find those qualities necessary for rain. if he sat still enough, he would be able to hear the first drop racing toward the ground.
the city around him rotated with purposeless intent. as he focused on the square of dry concrete in front of him, the distraction of that machine ceased to reach him.
the first drop fell like a gun shot echoing over a valley. henry long ago ceased wondering why nobody else heard it the same way he did. this time he didn't even bother to check that the city hadn't been destroyed.
by the time the next drop stained the sidewalk, they were already hard to count. each round dot covered a new patch of surface, quickly creating a pattern like... like nothing he'd ever seen intentionally created.
he had never been able to count the raindrops. that didn't stop him from knowing the roughly the same number would have to fall before one landed on the space already drenched by a previous drop.
he didn't understand how the water's long descent kept those initial drops from hitting the same spots on the ground. he didn't even understand how helpful it would be if he did.
but he did know it was the same unerring pattern every storm. by the time the first drop mixed with wet ground, henry was boarding the bus and had already forgotten about the sidewalk.
henry had been here a long time already. quietly, he had felt the air around him find those qualities necessary for rain. if he sat still enough, he would be able to hear the first drop racing toward the ground.
the city around him rotated with purposeless intent. as he focused on the square of dry concrete in front of him, the distraction of that machine ceased to reach him.
the first drop fell like a gun shot echoing over a valley. henry long ago ceased wondering why nobody else heard it the same way he did. this time he didn't even bother to check that the city hadn't been destroyed.
by the time the next drop stained the sidewalk, they were already hard to count. each round dot covered a new patch of surface, quickly creating a pattern like... like nothing he'd ever seen intentionally created.
he had never been able to count the raindrops. that didn't stop him from knowing the roughly the same number would have to fall before one landed on the space already drenched by a previous drop.
he didn't understand how the water's long descent kept those initial drops from hitting the same spots on the ground. he didn't even understand how helpful it would be if he did.
but he did know it was the same unerring pattern every storm. by the time the first drop mixed with wet ground, henry was boarding the bus and had already forgotten about the sidewalk.