Yesterday's News.

  She came in through the rain as I left this world. A world that dumped its fat tears on her, enveloping her grossly.
-"You shouldn't be drinking that much, really", I heard her say that as ghostly figures drew away from the corners of my vision.
-"Don't worry, sweetie. You have my undivided attention this night and every night". I was drunk. Internally and externally.
-"You will die young, really".
-"Now, don't be so glum", I said unsure.
-"I'm not, I'm just saying".
She kissed the air in front of her, wet hair and air particles parting the song of her devotion.
-"I swear....",
-"Don't. Please".
-"Ok".
My back was a solid piece of cinderblock being carved into an effigy of fragile emotions. My eyes burned as I drank my fifth beer. Turbulence came out of her, totally unexpected.
-"Did you see that thing fall out of the sky last night?", she said without much patience.
-"No".
-"It looked like an angel. An angel on fire".
I smiled briefly as I sucked into my cigar. The red tip fiery and enveloping like her wet hair.
-" I don't believe in angels, you know that".
-"I know, that's why I'm telling you".
-"I don't believe it".

Cruising over the other side of the street, the lights searched into our souls uninvited. The rain was unwelcoming.
-"Right here", she said. Hair dripping, eyes reeling.
-"Right".
-"It wasn't a rocket, if that's what you're thinking".
-"I was thinking headlights or a plane, maybe". I wasn't trying to be rude.
-"You're rude".
-"Ok. I wasn't trying to".
-"Whatever". She was looking up at the wet night sky. Searching for her fallen god. Searching.
-"Is he still up there?", I said.
-"Probably. He's in love with me. He likes my wet hair and my dry eyes. He does. I know".
-"It wasn't raining last night".
-"I know. But my hair was wet cuz I just got out of the shower. He might come out again tonight".
-"But your eyes aren't dry though", I said not thinking the whole thing through. The night was enveloping. Just like her.
-"They are now".
-"Ok".

We walked back under the rain. My hair was wet now. The night escaping like volatile gasses.
-"Let's go inside", she said infatuated with some sagacious thought whirling inside .
-"Ok. I do want another beer".
-"No, you don't".
-"I actually do".
The living room was warm and dry, thank god. She cuddled with the pillows on the couch, her wet hair dripping.
-"Get me one", she said with unfriendly enthusiasm.
-"Don't get drunk now, you". I reached the fridge and dug two cold ones out. Crisp and full of thirst-clenching power. She ignored me, naturally.
-"Get me a towel too".
-"So bossy".
-"Don't", she smiled for the first time that night.
The beer hit the spot and the night outside got wetter. Inside it got warmer but the beer helped. So did her conversation, soft and drifting as it was.
-"Did you see his face?", I said matter-of-factly.
-"Whose face?". She seemed surprised.
-" The damned angel, who else?".
-"Oh", she responded boringly. "That's yesterday's news".
-"Ok".