The first spring rain

What do you do when you’re alone?

Do some errands around the house?

Do some digging on the garden that you want to build since, forever.

Do swipe through tinder?

Check who last visited you’re instagram?

Or do you just sit there on your couch, grey, textured, idly. Watching outside the window with a cup of black coffee in your hand at the audacity of the nature to rain just at the wrong moment.

Listening to some jazz music, do you feel like dancing with a glass of old cherry wine in your hand?

But realising you cant do it, because you’re alone. There is no one in your house, no one beside you, no glass of wine but a messy bedside table with hairbrush, three last books you read shovelled and the cups of coffee you had since morning, on it. There you are. Alone or should I say, lonely .

A message ping up on your apple xs,

 “John Matthew, Ankan Chowdhury and 188 other people reacted to your photo.”

You sighed, took long breath kept the phone on the table upside down, you did notice the battery charge left it signaled “42%”.

Now, you’re listening to the rain drops on the balcony how chivalrous it can be,  there’s silence and you think its healing but,

is it ?

You closed your eyed held the mug tightly, pretending to remember something but there is nothing to remember, except the last pay check you got, of the last person you met at Applebees who was looking at your cleavage instead of your eyes, of the last picture you clicked with you’re friends, all smiling and happy. But are you ?

You were thinking about the book store you went to on 22^nd February and was wearing a chiffon shirt and trousers, two rings on your finger, one is emerald other is gold with a simple cut out, you were wearing that bracelet your mother sent you, button earrings usual one’s and the gold necklace, hairs messy tied up into a bun , you were not wearing bra and had the auve leather handbag you bought from zara, it was long came up to you waist and for shoes the flats from MANGO. You did not had any make up on, the freckles were visible with the natural tinge of peach on the apples of your cheek, you had light dark circles maybe anxiety .

In that book store you went across this guy, who did not look at your cleavage but your eyes and helped with the book that you could not reach to, he looked like a dreamer though . lost, hurt, broken, you wanted to talk to him meet him on a coffee date, but you did not say anything except a “thank you “, subtly.

You are regretting, regretting not talking to him, regretting sitting there on the couch and not going to the balcony and getting drenched on the first spring rain, regretting to pretend happy when there is a chaos inside, regretting not telling someone what you felt when you were drowning in your emotions and just telling,

“ I’m fine.”

You kept the cup on the table open the balcony door, went outside to get wet, to cry,  you’re wearing a chiffon top, a mixture of pink and peach, a criss-crossed boxer . You’re drenching now, your nipples are erect and visible, you stood there for a while put your wet hairs behind, every inch of your body soaking in water you decide not regret, you decide to tell the truth and accept it.

Only for that day as we all do.