Tears were still flowing freely down the Weatherman's cheeks when he turned back to the young woman. When he looked at her across the small room, he saw that she had settled back into the covers and was now lying down. He crossed to her, walking around the bed to look down at her smiling face. He sat on the edge of the mattress and brought his eyes down to meet hers. It was only then that he realised that they were closed. A smile flickered momentarily across the face of the Weatherman as he watched the young woman sleep. He watched her chest rise and fall slowly, and he squeezed her shoulder lightly, and what he now knew about her settled at last in his finally quiet mind. Her chest rose a little less each time she breathed, until at last, her breathing was shallow and silent. The small rises of the young woman's chest continued to diminish while the Weatherman sat on the bed.
Finally, as she was at peace, the Weatherman noticed her face. Calm now, it once again looked young. The Weatherman was happy.
The young woman was asleep again, and he went outside to wait in a tree, just like he used to in the city when she went home from the park.
YOU ARE READING
The Weatherman
RomanceBeing in charge of the weather is a beautiful responsibility when you think about it. Although is being a force of nature worth paying the price of living a life invisible to the world?
