The air is filled with the anticipation of rain and not a soul can be found outside. I can feel the clouds about to burst any minute now.
The view outside my window isn't much. I have a garden that takes up a good portion of my fenced in backyard, a small variety of fruit trees, and a handful of chickens to keep the pests at a minimum. Whatever eggs and produce that aren't used by my husband and I are sold at the village market.
Even with the turning of the weather, I'm not expecting my husband back from his smithy until dark. He's not one to stop his work for a bit of rain even though I told him that I had a bad feeling about today. I can feel it's about midday now so I have plenty of time before he returns, but the chickens need to be cooped up and my plants need another once over before it starts raining.
I sigh and grab my basket. The chickens are already making their way to the coop when I open the door. I follow them while softly nudging the stragglers and picking up any stray eggs I come across. I count the hens in the coop and all of them are inside so I close and lock the coop door. There are always a few eggs under the coop so I make to grab them. The first drops of rain hit my nose and fingers as I reach toward the freshly ripe apples that I missed this morning. The apples seem to be the only thing currently ready to be picked. Knowing my husband and how the rain dampens his spirits I persuade a few spicy peppers to ripen early just for him. No one else in the village can stand them, so he eats them raw in the winter for the whole village to look on in horror. He eats them raw most of the time anyway but takes extra pleasure from the wintry horror.
My distracted train of thought is disrupted by a crash of thunder and brought to the increasingly heavy pepper in my hand. Without meaning to I made the normally rather small pepper the size of my fist and probably a lot spicier than it's supposed to be. Screw it, the others'll be the same but on purpose this time. Just as I pluck the last oversized pepper off of the plant, another roll of thunder blesses my ears and the rain starts to come down harder and faster. I make my way back to the house and just as my fingers brush the handle yet another roll of thunder and the rain turns into a downpour.
Just as the door closes behind me the front door opens with a bang and my husband hurries inside. He's out of breath and looks more afraid than I've seen him in a long time. He's just standing there, frozen, staring at me with fear in his eyes.
"Aolú," I gently set down my basket and rush to his side. I brush the loose strands of his vibrant red hair out his face, "what it is?" He takes a shaky breath.
"I have to leave for a few days Naithí." Every time he says this I know he'll return just a little different, a little more empty.
"Let go Naithí. I have to pack." He hasn't moved, but I slowly step away and let my fingers linger on his skin for just a moment longer.
"I still don't have a good feeling Aolú. Are you sure you have to leave?"
"I'll be leaving at first light," his normal hearty volume is just a whisper. Such a small and quiet voice from such a large man. Neither of us has moved from where we stand. Him out of fear, and me out of concern for my husband.
"Maybe I can join you this time? Just to ease my worry?"
"I don't think that would be a good idea, mo chroí. I won't risk it." He doesn't look at me, but he slowly and stiffly makes his way to our bedroom.
I feel like I've forgotten how to move. This isn't the first time he's had to leave suddenly, but it is the first time I ever had a bad feeling about it.
