Running back to you

The summer rain beat down on the roof of the tiny phone booth, as a young woman, searched her person for a quarter. Her clthing was disheveled, her makeup running down her face in small dark streams. With a trembling hand she placed the quarter into the slot, her mind eagerly recalling a phone number. His phone number. Outside people scurried to and fro, avoiding the fat rain drops as they splashed down about the city. Everyone has seen this type of rain before, some enjoy the calm peace the rain can bring you, the feeling of renewal. A musician lit up his cigarette in the rain, feeling the combination of hot smoke and cooling rain against his flesh. The raindrops making a solid thumping as they splashed about his beaten leather jacket. He didn't notice as another youth came up to him.

"Excuse me, aren't you Syl.." The musician didn't even make eye contact with the youth. This woman had him intrigued, who was she? Why is she still staring at that damn phone pad? He took another drag from his smoke before responding.

"Sorry, you got me mistaken..-" The youth looked at him again, puzzled for a moment.

"Nah, nah, I'm positive you are," The musician finally glared at the youth, his patience wearing a bit thing.

"I said I'm not, you got a listening issue or just like annoying me?" The youth flipped him the finger before storming off, each step in the rain causing it's own ripple effect.

As a mother scurried her children inside out of the rain, a small smile crept across the musician's face as he took another drag. He calmly watched as life passed him by. He spies a small woman, probably early twenties by his guess hiding in a payphone, holding the receiver against her chest as she shivered in the weather. She was wearing something one wouldn't expect in the London rains, a small black skirt and a faded blue tank top; her hair hung about her in long black strands.

Everyone always has a place to go, doesn't they? Except for a young woman who had been holding onto a payphone; she had been staring at the numbers for, to her, had been hours. She gently pushed each number as if one moment the phone may very well swallow her up if she continued to dial. Slowly she raised the phone to her ear.

The phone rang, the young woman held the phone like a lifeline. She hears the empty sound as an answering machine clicks in.

"Not home, leave a message."

"Hi, Adam, It's me...I'm on my way home...kay bye.." She hung the receiver back up with a gentle click. She looked up out of the phone booth; the rain wasn't going to let up. Part of her always hated the rain, but it felt a bit better this time. As if it was cleaning away droplets of her past, making things a little bit better. As she folded her arms against her chest she began to walk through the rain.

Thoughts began to echo through her mind, as she shivered against the rain.

"I'm so cold, I want to go home now, but-Adam. I'm so tired Adam, can you hear me, are you tired too? I can't handle this anymore, I can't, I'm finished. I need you so much right now."

As she walked down the rainy street, she realized nobody even gave her a second glance. She felt almost disconnected from the real world, as if, the moment she came to this city, she had been split from the rest of the world. Especially from him, she remembered as they had spent so many afternoons together as children. She wondered would he honestly remember her? Would he let her in? She didn't know where else to go, or who to call, or how she was honestly going to get across the country back to him.

A street artist hung underneath a high rise canopy, his backpack heavy with various sprays, markers and a few stickers. He had his target, the Crown banks building. As soon as the rain stopped, he was going to tag it, right at the top. The Coyote, he wanted everyone to know the trickster was there. He noticed the lady walk by him, and he paused from his plans for a moment. Funny clothes for the weather, where was she going? She looked almost a million miles away right now. He noticed the blues guitarist across the street as well; he had heard the guy play a few times when he snuck into the clubs. He was really good, if just a bit disconnected from the crowd.

He returned his view to the young woman with her gaze stuck on the ground as she almost tried to fade back into the crowds.

The End

22 comments about this story Feed