Under the Rain

Two

    I was sleepless for the rest of the night. And this time, it wasn't insomnia. Immediately after the figure had disappeared, It had cost some minutes for me to recover, breathe better, tame my thudding heart and slam the window shut.

When I kneeled to pick up Sugar who was now, helplessly staring at me from the corner, did I realize that my fingers were still trembling.

"It's ok," I tried to convince myself, more than to the alarmed cat, whose comfort had been now gradually restored by the delicate pats of my hand.

Dawdling over to the kitchen, and assuring myself repeatedly that all the other windows were shut, I poured myself some water. I clasped the kitchen counter for support and took a deep breath, still not being able to completely submit myself to the belief that the peril of the past five minutes, were not some figment of my imagination, nor a dream.

I glimpsed the clock. 3 AM. I couldn't remember waiting for the sun with such impatience ever in my life. And I, sure as I was standing there, couldn't return to my bedroom until the daylight breaks out. What if he is still there?  What if he's coming here right now? Adrenaline began rushing in again, to respond to my uncontrollable flow of nonsensical assumptions.

"The window is shut, you idiot," I muttered to myself, splashing some cool water on my face. And it was then when I suddenly recalled something.

Bracing myself, I strode to the bedroom to rummage through the carpeted floor, after clicking the bedside lamp on.

There it lay. A small steel knife with an intricate wooden handle. For a second, I wondered if I should hand it over to the police for inspection. But I dismissed the idea immediately.

As unsettled I was at that moment, it seemed utterly bizarre, that at the same time, some other part of me, actually wanted to confront the stranger again.

Probably it had something to do with the way his aura transfused to abrupt repulsion as soon as he saw my face. For now, I tucked it inside the topmost drawer of my bedside cabinet.

                                                                            ⁂

As the sun awoke, I found myself dozing in the heart-shaped sofa, with my feet on the cushion and my head on the fluffy red carpet. It was past 11 o clock! I had so much to study! The rest of the day surfed in a tedious blur.

Every Sunday, my day revolved monotonously around food, books, sleep, and repetition of the cycle. However, this time it was very unlike.

Even though the terror of the previous night was just a negligible blur in my memory since I still couldn't digest it wholly, certain symptoms in me proved my subconscious self had quite different opinions. At every trifling sound, I would jerk from my bookish concentration and look around. When the apartment would be as naturally silent as it usually is, except for the commotion from the street below, and the kitchen cupboard would creak, a butterfly would splash shadows across the wall, Sugar would carelessly topple a pillow to the ground or the telephone would ring with an unexpected screech, I would jump. I finally gave up, since it was impossible to focus within these four walls and listlessly strolled over to my porch that was now licked by a  lovely Sun. Nothing was more tempting at that moment than the jubilant nature that called out to me.

So, I packed my books, put on a flowered crop top, a pair of khaki pants, and walked out. Once outside, the blissful sunlight greeted me with a warm embrace, and I smiled, unknowingly to myself. On the way, I halted in front of my red salsa perched across the pavement, its dazzling color synchronizing with the funky multicolored paintings some teenagers had inscribed on the wall where it leaned. I wondered if I should take it.