Vignette #4: "Rain"

Rain, cold and heavy as lead assaulted the train’s platform. Doors opened and stewards unfolded steps. A weary crowd began to disembark. Hands tucked in pockets, pulling wheeled suitcases, lighting cigarettes; with downcast eyes they hustled to the station. And when they had moved on, you remained. Standing afar, panting but not out of breath, exhalations a fog in the cold. You were already soaked, but not shivering. No, you couldn’t even feel the downpour, could you? Your eyes, fawn-like, wet and trembling as the puddles beneath you, anticipated something. That gaze spoke: there will be no more goodbyes.