It was a strange feeling.
As if though she was in love with the rain.
She could look out the window for hours at the heavy downpour that fell upon the earth. She leaned close to the glass window, feeling the coolness of the rain through it, as if it was calling to her, inviting her to play in the puddles and let the raindrops shower her with love. Indra peered through her owl-eye glasses, her gaze sweeping the beautiful landscape before her. She could feel the power the storm had on her, she could feel it, deep in her heart. It skipped a beat every other moment, overflowing with joy as she watched the grey world that heard only the soothing parade of rain drops.
The school bell finally rang and dismissed Indra from the barrier that divided her from the rain. Her blue umbrella was held tightly in her hand, but it had no purpose. She looked up to the sky, letting water get on her glasses. She looked down, staring into her dark, watery reflection in the sidewalk. Indra stopped to look closely, enjoying the distortions in the figure caused by the storm. She didn't mind the water getting in her hair, starting off as little beads of water strung upon each strand, like crystal beads. She stood there for some time, taking pictures of the beauty around her. When her glasses were too wet to be of any use, she stopping and removed them, wiping the thick frames of her pink coat.
From a few feet away, another beauty was observed in another's eyes. He smiled, the little thing seeming care-free and undisturbed by the gradual soaking of her clothes. He stepped forward and walked past her, letting her live a little longer in her quiet, beautiful world.
The next day was a Friday, a glorious day. It was still raining, and it seemed as though it would not let up. Thunder called out, too late to have met the far off lightning. Indra sat in her first hour class, completing her work soundlessly, completely cut off from the social activity around her. Her short, light brown hair served as a curtain for her round face. Her grey-blue eyes were shielded by the metal-rimmed, thick-framed glasses. the only movement that provided evidence that she was even awake was her pale hands, moving across the keyboard with such speed that the clicking of the keys resembled the rain she adored so much.
Indra was a small person, nearly shorter than everyone of her peers. She was skinny, as well. She could easily fall under the radar and surprise others when they would finally realize she as in the room. The chattering of other students in the room continued, but the other set of eyes had seemingly let the ears have a day off. The owner of these dark, calm eyes had long completed the project, but stayed unattached to any of the conversations around him. This was considered strange, considering how popular this person was. No one seemed to notice, for they were all in their own worlds; their own bubbles of thought and words that were meaningless. This was a high school, and if someone had something to say, it was only a meme or some gossip, fed to their ears by some source that was unreliable. The person stood, preparing their bag to leave, though the class still was to survive and extra twenty minutes. He picked up the bag and carried himself over to the corner of the room in which Indra resided. He sat in the vacant spot next to her and looked at her computer screen. She was putting a lot of work into the project, and some would call her an over-achiever. He minded not and sat next to her, nearly mesmerized by the constant stream of words that would fill the screen. Finally, they came to a stop, and he was aware of her gaze.
Indra stayed quiet, and looked back at her computer. Finally, the boy spoke.
"What's your project over?"
Indra ignored, him, fearful of social interaction. Deene repeated his question, slightly louder, "What are you working on?" Indra felt a little nervous and mumbled, "The study and research of schizophrenia." Deene nodded with interest, and began to speak again, "Mine was over the history of psychosis." He hoped for her to respond, and she nodded. It will have to do, He thought. He pushed for further conversation. "Are you nearly done?"
"A few more pages, and I'll be done."
He took notice of how quickly she spoke. She was either afraid of social interaction, him, or was annoyed. Deene thought for a moment and decided to be blunt.
"Am I annoying you?"
"Only a little. I'd like to finish this project."
He nodded, and though he didn't show it, he was relieved. He watched as she typed the last phrase and sent it to the teacher.
"Where do you sit at lunch?" He asked. Beating around the bush might not work with her, so he was going to flat out hit the bush. She paused, contemplating an answer. He could tell she was nervous. She definitely didn't sit with anyone at all, and he had just reminded her.
Not that he cared.
He patiently waited for an answer, and she finally replied.
"Outside in the covered picnic table area."
He nodded and smiled, being direct and pushing to seem friendly and harmless, though he was sure she still was really afraid of talking with him, "May I come sit with you?" and though the bell rang and she skittered off before giving an answer, it was not really up to her.
He was going to be her friend, and whether she liked it or not.
YOU ARE READING
Pluviophile
ChickLitShe was alone. The girl who often fell under the radar, and hardly anyone noticed she was there. At least, until he came along. This is a story of inner and hidden beauty, in all things, including people, nature, and in oneself.