It was late at night and we were coming home from our camping trip when it started pouring. You had this thrilled glimmer in your eyes as you watched the midnight rainfall pelt the world with all it had. I never exactly understood why you loved the rain so much. Personally, I hated it. It made the air humid and uncomfortable and it drenched everything in its way. I especially hated it when it soaked the laundry I always forgot to bring back inside.
That night, when we stopped for gas, you had stepped out of the car with an umbrella and stood in the rain with a mysterious smile that I could not read. The moon was out and it illuminated your beautiful frame as you spun around in the rain, humming a quiet melody. There, as I pumped the gas into the car, I asked you, "Why do you love the rain so much?" You giggled lightly and just shook your head.
When we were back on the road, we sat in a comfortable silence, watching the rain blur out the world around us. After a few miles, you turned to me and asked, "Do you still want to know why?" I glanced at you from the corner of my eye and I saw you staring outside with a dreary look on your face. I murmured, "Sure," as I averted my eyes back to the road. You waited a few moments until, in that ever so soft voice of yours, you spoke,
"Sad people love the rain because they are no longer crying alone."
Those were the things you said while we were driving.
YOU ARE READING
The Things You Said
Fanfica short collection of things you said to me at the most and least heartfelt moments.
