Arcane

Prologue

     The rain that pours all along my body at the moment makes the idea of an umbrella astounding. I lift my palm up to the strands of my dripping red (which is darker due to the rainfall) hair and exhale in disgust of the weather. After breathing out a few cuss words and receiving a few rude glances from the citizens of New York City, I glance across the street I will soon have to make my way across. The cars are moving so quickly that they create some sort of blur of lights and colors. 

     I believe it is approximately 9:00 P.M., considering the sun is down and the world only seems to be lit up with headlights, the lighting of cigarettes, and a billion neon signs and screens strung out along the sides. I've never liked this urban way of life I was born into, the way people are always rushing- blurred like those fast moving cars. They continue to rush, even if they have no place to go.

     As I inhale, the smell of gasoline, smoke, and rain becomes apparent. I stare apprehensively at the red hand on the crosswalk signal. I try to wipe the rain dripping down my face off with my hands but, they too, are wet. Finally the signal switches to the walking symbol. I try hurrying and pushing my way through the people around me. Most of them are walking slowly, satisfied with the simple pleasure of having an umbrella over their heads. 

    As I'm nearing close to the other side of the street, I hear an engine roaring louder than the rest. A red Volvo rolls out of nowhere and drives straight towards me. The vehicle comes to a halt all too close to me, the tires churn the water on the street causing it to splash up onto my lower self. 

     So here I am, in the middle of Times Square- standing on a street crosswalk, facing a car that is inches away from touching my body. I hear the gasps and footsteps of people scurrying behind me. However- I simply stare at the car, the rain pouring down my face, and smile while lifting a finger up to the middle aged man in the front seat. 

    After giving the man the attention he all too much deserved - I take my time, even though the red hand symbol is now evident, taking my last few steps off the street. Once on the sidewalk, I glance up and down the bright stores lining it. I try to remember where my car has been parked, but everything looks the same. The same type of people, same models of cars, same architecture of buildings, the same rushing feeling that seems to be infused among this city. 

    I make my way down the sidewalk, my arms wrapped around my chest to try to keep warm. The precipitation is oblivious to my current state as it seems to increase by the second. My clothes stick to my skin and my hair is pressed down in heavy, wet strands. I don't understand how anyone can "love" rain.

    Through the loud sound of a million drops of rain hitting the cement, I hear a door of a store open, setting off a small chime inside the building. I glance back through the crowd, someone's umbrella hits me in the face. I glare at them, but they seem to lost in the rush of things to notice at all. A boy with curly brown hair that falls just above the tip of his eyelids walks out. His shirt wears a badge with his name on it, but I'm just far enough away to be unable to read it. 

"Hey!", the boy shouts over at me, "Where's your umbrella?" He glances around him, his eyes wide at the amount of preciptation, then meets my gaze again.

I raise my eyebrows at him, and shrug slightly, "It's a long story, today just doesn't seem to be my day."

I sigh and turn away to continue my endless journey into the rain. The boy persists, yelling, "Wait, I think I might have an extra umbrella in the back of the store." 

I turn around and move to the side, so I don't block the mob of people, I tilt my head to the side slightly, "I don't know, I think I'll be fine." Actually, I'd love an umbrella but it feels impolite to ask so much of this stranger.