October 15, 2007
By Rebecca Giglio, New City, NY

It’s raining, I thought. Pouring. I hated the days when it just rained and rained and rained. All there was to do was just sit there and trace the raindrops with your finger tips.

I watched a car pull into the driveway, old and rundown. The door hinges were rusted and the windows were so dirty I could hardly see the driver. But I knew who it was. He got out of the car and walked to the door, turning the key in the lock.

“Jessie?” he called, and I heard his keys drop on the table. “Jessie?”

I didn’t answer.

I looked back out the window again and saw the girl in the passenger’s seat fiddling with her purse and the straps of her tank-top, and looking at herself constantly in the rear-view mirror. Well, I hoped she looked perfect.

He opened the door and sat down on my bed. I didn’t look at him.

“Jessie…” he began, but I knew he didn’t know what to say. Nothing could change anything.

He put his hand on my shoulder and although his hand was wet and ice cold, I knew I felt colder. I gazed at his reflection in the window. He sat there, his eyes staring at the back of my head. He picked up his hand and it stayed there, just above my shoulder. Then he placed it down on his lap and we sat there listening to the rain drops fall against the roof top. I closed my eyes and breathed for a second, breathed in the dusty air, and pictured myself in the rain. There was something so comforting about being in the rain. It was as if it was crying for you, as if it felt your pain and understood your tears.

I opened my eyes and looked back at his reflection. It looked as if he was staring into his own reflection, but I knew he stared out the window, at the girl in the passenger’s seat of the car, the girl who was fixing herself to be absolutely perfect for him. Good. At least someone would. I watched as he stood up and waited for a second, as if he wanted to say something, but didn’t know how to say it. And anyway, there was so much to say. One sentence couldn’t summarize it all.

I watched as he turned his back to me and I watched as he opened the door. I silently walked to the hallway and watched as he walked down the stairs. Out the window, I watched him get back in the rusty old car. And I watched the rain fall down on the window. I watched the rain.

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