The Magic of Misery

A White Christmas

It only took a few drips and drops for the light mist to turn into a desperate race for the water to hit the ground, and for people to make it inside before they got wet. 

 A bit of dampness from the roof above hit the bridge of her very defined nose. She looked out on the city as the crowds started up in front of her, crossing the street by groups of twenty or fifty. The sidewalks and crosswalks of the city were designed in a way that allowed tremendous amounts of commuters to get to work safely. Dim gray clouds meant that the lights from the monstrous buildings illuminated the streets fully. She looked out from her partially dry outcropping to see if it was safe to cross the streets. However, she found her eyes longingly glued to the bright lights and sleek architecture of the city. 

When she was only a girl, the city fascinated her. The buildings would tower over her small town in her mind, the dream of city life as out of reach as the top of the Shanghai Tower. The idea of being able to travel to other countries and live in their cities was her passion. Her small town near Buffalo was not her dream, and neither was New York City. Her parents warned her to stay close when she went away to college, but she disregarded them of having small minds. Three of her friends got into NYU alongside with her. Yet, when her acceptance letter for Fudan arrived in the mail, she bought a plane ticket and never looked back. It was all she had ever cared about. 

 Her feet moved by themselves as she stepped across the streets and onto new sidewalks. She knew of the numbers from her childhood, of the small slim device in her back pocket. The rain poured down harder, but that was not an excuse. Easily, she could have slipped into a restaurant and called the numbers. It had been years, why was this just bothering her now? 

She passed more buildings, getting closer to the heart of the city. This was her favorite part. Asian architecture always amazed her more than anything else, and the almost futuristic buildings towards the center were her favorite. They all had screens that displayed anything from ads to the time. On the biggest one in the center, was the date. She dried off her glasses, no longer minding the terrible feeling of being covered in the toxic rain. On the screen, displayed in giant, white letters: December 25th, 18:43. 

She put the hood up on her hoodie as her feet kept taking their path. Those numbers were still in her mind. She could call her mom, dad, or brother. They would answer the phone for her and be overjoyed to hear her voice. Yet, they could not call her foreign phone. Before she knew it, she was inside, drying off. Then, an elevator. Then, outside again. The tower that had amazed her childhood was now beneath her. Shouldn't she be happy? The sight of the city was amazing, even in the rain. 

She leaned forward, and let the weightlessness of the sight pull her forward. Raindrops stood still as the ground raced towards her. 

In the end, all she wanted was a white Christmas.