It's raining.
Again.
I stare out the window of the train as endless fields fly by in a blur. The tall grass dances with the distant winds, a hypnotic rhythm against the somber gray sky. Raindrops streak across the glass, their soft patter mingling with the occasional sound of wind, creating an oddly calming symphony. It's quiet inside the cabin, with only a few whispers of passengers. Everyone else seems to be asleep. It's been too long since I've been here.
Things are different now.
I'm different now.
Slowly, a city starts to appear on the horizon, the tall buildings a stark reminder of how things have changed. The fields come to a halt at a sign. I squint my eyes, trying to make out the words, but the sign is already far behind me when the letters' shapes start to make sense to my eyes. More urban landscapes appear as we near the city, the atmosphere seems to shift, somehow, as anticipation permeates the air.
Rain falls with a gentle insistence, transforming bustling streets into a tranquil symphony of water and light as the droplets create intricate patterns on pavements and windows, making every surface a canvas of reflections. Amidst the mist and soft murmur of rain, streetlights cast a warm glow that diffuses through the haze, giving the city an ethereal aura. Skyscrapers vanish into the low-hanging clouds, their silhouettes softened by the rain's embrace. Pedestrians move with an unhurried grace, their umbrellas forming a kaleidoscope of colors that dance in harmony with the rhythm of the falling rain. The air is crisp and cool, carrying the scent of wet asphalt and freshly dampened earth.
As the train begins to slow, and the quiet starts to dissipate. In no more than a few minutes, a larger structure appears ahead, and the rustle of people awakening and packing up their last items fill the room. When the train finally comes to a halt, the double doors slide open, accompanied with a small sound of warning. As the sound disappears, crowds of people file out at once, until I am the only one that remains in the cabin, or maybe, the entire train.
I close my eyes as the sounds of the station slowly vanish.
YOU ARE READING
Echos In The Rain
Short StoryThe rain stopped. But so did the dream. In the end, it was as if it never happened. If none of it was real, is there a point of remembering? Is it the memories trapping me or myself? This is a collection of short pieces of writings created in the mi...
