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Singing or Crying in the Rain

Note: This story is another writing or character prompt. I edited very little. Not all stories have an end. Most of them are 500 words with a goal to work on a writing skill, then move on to a new story. Please do not replicate these stories without the authors’ express written permission. I hope you enjoy the story. Post your own story using the same prompt.

Today’s Prompt: Someone has a terrible cold and is walking home and it’s pouring rain

I hacked up phlegm the size of a ping-pong ball and spat it onto the ground, the rain quickly demolishing it in a furious attack. Eight more blocks until I reached home and sheltered in a hot shower and warm bed, slept this flu away and hopefully woke up to a better day—for me and the pissy storm.

It turned out the marketing of my rain jacket—one hundred percent waterproof—did not include heavy downpours where rain easily travelled down my long hair and into my jacket like a child down a water slide, drenching my concealed clothing. My Adidas walking shoes would never be the same—I’m sure the squishy noise sounded the deterioration of the support gel. Even Adidas didn’t expect someone out in this storm. Gloves would have been nice, but I’d lost them somewhere, electing now to stuff my wrinkled hands in the pocket of my not really waterproof jacket.

My phone warned me that the rain would continue unabated until late in the night. I should have taken an Uber home. Too late now. Damage done.

I coughed several times, my hand reflexively covering my mouth. Incidentally, I scooped water into my mouth and drank to relieve some of my sore throat. The water tasted far better than the warm metallic of the office fountain.

The rain somehow changed temperatures, and I started shivering. I glanced up at the clouds, my eyes pelted with drops of water, my mind curious why God wanted to punish me. I went to church at least one Sunday a month, better than anyone else I knew, only swore when I drove, because there are a lot of dumb fuckers driving these days, and took care of my body, hitting the gym at least three times a week for the recommended thirty minutes.

I might forgive the rain or the cold, but why both at the same time? What God of misery laughed hysterically at my suffering?

Thunder rumbled, and I scanned the sky for lightning. Dark clouds made five o’clock in mid-summer seem like ten o’clock. I could use a flashlight, more for protection and someone insane enough to be out in this storm with me, though I knew my way and nearly every crack in the road I’d encounter.

Six blocks. I picked up my pace, hoping by raising my body temperature that my shivering would slow or stop. A car drove by, motoring through puddles like a boat on a lake. They might have offered me a ride if they weren’t concerned about my sanity. Their lights faded as if they’d driven through a cascading waterfall.

Four blocks. I didn’t think I could get wetter than wet, until I heard the clouds shriek and the rain doubled its effort, nearly knocking me from my feet. We’d never had a monsoon before, but I couldn’t help imagine I was about to be swept away, never to be heard from again. My last thought on earth would be that I’m cold, sick and exhausted. I’d always thought I’d die falling down a mountain at the peak of adrenaline.

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