It Was Never Meant To Be

I

:Do you ever just get calm from the smell of something well that's me with rain

.364 days later.
The pavement was made of uneven bricks - dark red and brown faded with the rain. They are crumbling with old age, old footprints of builders' shoes fossilised in the cement. Water runs down the bricks and floods the bottom of the hill, the water was foggy with dust and debris of the pavement. Drops of water flew around as people's shoes hit the puddles as they ran for shelter. The buildings show their age as they slant inwards the window thin and frail, different colours some clear others fogged and some a dull yellow, small woodbeams hold them in place. And shake with a subtle wind. The bay windows look into the buildings with a flood of colours burst outward from the inside. The goods that the shops sell release a sweet fragrance into the air. The infatuating smells were like freshly baked scones, fudge and toffee. The old wooden signs sway in the breeze creaking with every move meant.

   The old street left lonely by those who tend to walk above it. Hiding from the rain and the grey consumed sky. But if look though the thin fog down the path lit with dim lights, there dancing in the middle of the rain is a young girl who looks about seventeen. She is soaked from head to toe. Her blonde hair darkened slightly to a dark brown with small hints a caramel blonde which is filled with subtle waves and reaches slightly below her chest. Her skin is pale but still full of life, her rosier undertones bring out her fern green eyes and peachy plump lips that are curved into a slightly uneven smile. As she danced her layered necklaces bounce of her petite body shining slightly where street light hits the gold of the chains. The slender girl's figure is dressed in a cropped yet baggy cream knitted jumper. It had a high neckline and stitches stretch down until it stops where the bellybutton would be- it is paired with a short brown skirt which is pleated and hits mid thigh at the top of the skirt is a sliver button on her hip. Her legs are covered by flesh coloured tights, and her shoes are brown boots with buckles on the outside of her foot-the shoe bears a small heel which has been worn and slightly discoloured. The puddles in which she dance brake and engulf her feet with splashes of water as she bound around freely. She pulls her friends into the rain and they dance together and the bleakness seems to fade and be replaced with joy and light, faint laughter can be heard from down the street.

   Pluviophile is the only word to describe this girl, it's a noun to describe lover of rain, someone who finds joy, security and peace of mind during rainy days. To feel at peace in a truly chaotic world is something many dreams of having and holding. To be at one with the chaos inside of you, not to be overthrown by it. Silence. Silence can be as loud as a thunder storm with howling wind, crunching trees and clattering lightning. Silence can overwhelm you trapping you inside with thoughts. But the rain freed her. She saw beauty in something many scrambled away from.

And that's why he would be infatuated with her