For over an hour, he bore the burden of my grim silence. I, lost as a philosopher paid no heed towards his ice-cold glare, until his perseverance finally gave up.
“Why do you watch the rain like that?” he inquired .
“Because” I smiled, pressing my nose against the window grill.
“Vulnerability is a beautiful thing.”
“Vulnerability?” he asked puzzled.
“Don’t you see it? How the rain falls so effortlessly, without expecting, a soft landing. Nothing can stop it from pouring down its pain.
The Pain. It’s beautiful !” I confessed.
“It’s just rain,” came his reply, barely audible over the sound of the tremendous downpour.
“I don’t expect you to see the beauty in it,” I sighed heavily, fogging the glass with my breath.
“That’s all I’ll ever be to you- JUST RAIN.”