"Rain."
"Rain? How am I like rain?" she frowns.
"On days when I can't hear my own voice- only my thoughts rushing through my head, when I can't feel anything anymore, when I can't feel my own hands, my own heart and my entire existence..." he looks at her.
"... the thought of you showers in like rain. Drenching me in comfort, steering me free from my rut, holding my hand through the pain. On days I feel like I do not wish to live, I remember my life is more- not because you're in it, but because you're a reminder of how good life can be if I let it."
"What about the days it actually rains?"
"On those days, I lay in my bed, part the curtains of my windows and hear your voice softly humming like you do to when you paint, for somehow, you feel so inspired every time it rains."
"Well I think you're like fire."
He chuckles, "and what does that mean?"
"You're the reason why, even on the other side I can still feel the passion to move towards you, if not in this lifetime then next,"
"What do you mean?" he starts shaking, "what do you mean, Clara?"
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN?" His eyes blink open, sweat trickling down his forehead.
Taking a moment to breathe, he looks next to himself and sees Clara lying right next to her, cluching his hand in her sleep, whiffing out her soft little breaths.
"I guess we get to live a million lives in this one afterall," he leans in and kisses her on the forehead, putting his arms around her waist, gently pulling her in.
"I'm blessed to be able to see what love looks like- for in "all my lifetimes"- it looks exactly like you."
