all Red and White and Blue

I pull you out into the rain, hands entwined and grasping tight. Your reluctance is evident as your free hand fans out above your head, flicking drops of water away from your visage. I urge you forward with a smile on my face, rivulets of rain dripping from my brow and cheeks and chin. My reward is your acceptance and a reluctant smile, a crescent of sunlight amid the storm.

We run, hand in hand, down the sidewalk, side stepping glassy puddles to avoid breaking our distorted reflections. My shoulders are soaked, as yours must be, with our jackets left behind in favour of the rain-water refreshment. Our shirts are white, but we don’t care, even though the old lady in the street does; she cares about a lot of things we don’t.

Soon I see that which I was searching for, a rise of red amid the concrete and crystalline glass. The auburn colour of the bricks is illuminated to a deeper red by their dampness, the rain bringing out the life in even the stones.

You find yourself pressed to the wall, the blades of your shoulders resting like the rockers of a grandmother’s chair. I plant my hands at either side of your face, splaying my fingers outward to balance my leaning body.

Any witness to the act might call it a crime, but a closer inspection would reveal our smiles, our locked eyes and ignorance of the world and the glances and the rain.

Because we’re in love. So I kiss you.

The old babushka shakes her scarved head. The rain tickles the petals of countless spring blossoms. The breeze pries at our damp clothing, clinging to our skin. The brick wall supports our bodies.

The kiss is broken, returning the world to what it was before.

But it’s different, because we’re in love. So I kiss you again.

The End

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