The rain beat relentlessly on the roof of their small house. A few flashes of lightning. The winds howled lowly. The trees stood still gloomily in the dark, bathed by the moonlight. Dead night.
The room was a mess. Sheets lay crumpled on their bed, pillows laying lifeless on the cold floor. He sat in one corner of the bed, head bent into his hands. Eyes red, thoughts deep. A man defeated.
She stood by the door way. It is open, curtain flapping into the room like a ghost is making its way in. Her suit case made, her funny pack strapped on yet it wasn’t even funny. It’s a cold morning. Raining.
She’s leaving & no matter how much he’s pleading, how much he’s declaring his undying love for her in this cold morning, she stepped out into the rain, & with her umbrella sprung, she left him.
It’s not always bliss when it rains. Tears rolling.