I woke up today and it was raining. Not the pounding thud of heavy rain, but the subtle and depressed patter of light drizzle. The kind of rain that isn't content with just turning the sky grey, so it has to wash the concrete outside to make it greyer than grey. Heavy rains do the same thing, but in a more heavy-handed and brutal manner that nobody partakes in. When people see heavy rain, they just decide to stay indoors and ignore it. Today's kind of rain is the cruel kind of rain - the kind of rain that draws you outside with an inviting curiosity, and then slowly makes you more depressed with every falling droplet. It feels nice for a little bit, until you finally want to go home and it starts raining ever so slightly harder and your hair starts to drip everywhere.
Say what you will, but goddamn, I wanted to go outside. Come on. I'll stand by the bus stop and wait ten minutes for the most inconsistent bus in the city to come by. Hopefully this time the driver will decide to slow down before driving through the rain puddles. Actually, that's never happened to me - I just really don't like the buses. Other drivers are much meaner than bus drivers, especially here. There are too many drivers that like to splash walking people with road water, and I'm pretty sure I'll run into one or two today. Maybe it'll be worth it.
On the bus, I'm thinking of someone who came around here a couple years before. I wonder what they're up to, since they left without a trace. Light rain sounds nicer than the bus driver's radio. Nobody says anything. Some girl in love with the entire world smiles and gets off at the mall. Some damp fellow gets off the bus and frowns, muttering what was either gratitude or apology. It continues.
Off the bus now, the rain continues to fall leisurely. Inviting and friendly. "I can like you", it says wordlessly. Don't be weirded out. "Don't be weirded out, you should know I can like you." The rain tastes drunk. It doesn't actually taste like anything, it's just a reminder. It's digging. OK. Get sheltered from the rain, and oh, the wind feels colder now. Take away the inviting rain, the wind pushes away with confusing breath. Fall back inside and wait for the train.
A short train ride later, downtown. A woman falls on the watered concrete outside and two people help her up. Others run to catch the traffic lights, counting down. Kids with skateboards stand in doorways, smoking boredom. The official ticking of the crosswalk light turns white for a few seconds, then begins counting down from a red twenty. Step through the water, fall into the sliding doors. Look around, find nobody. Step back outside and give the rain the benefit of the doubt.
Step on it. Hang on it. Spin around and breathe some oxygen. Something feels displaced with a dark shining sense of dread. Walk up the avenue anyways, because man, I could use some food. The rain continues to jitter and live in a fuzzy saturation, watering the streets with tepid delectation. People seem to pass by less and less - more and more hide behind sheets of glass. Not really feeling like myself - rather, feeling more detached and livid. Think I could use a drink and some fries. Let's go hang out at "the pub".
All these cool people came - so much that we're here in the doorway. Turn around and step back into the rain. The wind's charade goes on forever. Fleeing down the avenue, I look through more windows and find more people together, keeping dry and warm. Two people in a booth there, two people at a table there. You can tell those two are on their first date. Those two over there, it's probably their fourth. Keep walking, trying not to look down. Music from an overpriced record store floats out onto the avenue, sounding like heavy metal. "This next one is about masturbation, playing video games and wishing you were dead", I think. A surprising number of songs are about those topics. Less surprising is the fact that "grey" and "decay" rhyme. Scrape the notes on the dripping sidewalk billboard and walk past the store, thinking I've had enough and want to go home.
I stand next to the bus stop and peer down the avenue, hoping for my bus. The water that drops on me is a bit thicker than usual, but I don't mind too much. Nobody is walking by, except for a single figure across the street. They look relatively familiar, but they walk into a coffee shop before I can place a name. Exhale. OK. A lone car stops by the traffic lights, and then it sees a large puddle none too far from the bus stop I'm standing at. It speeds up before I can move and, as expected, an immense wall of emotionless water rises up and soaks me. I knew it. I fucking knew it. I remember the name, and want so badly to cross the street to talk to them. I convince myself they were there to meet someone else, though. I'm too sodden to bother, and not all that entertaining. The rain gets worse. It's cold. My bus comes by eventually and the driver says something with a little laugh. The ride home is a lot like the ride out - nobody talks, perhaps too absorbed in the sound of rain hitting the bus. An older man two seats in front of me begins writing on the fogged up window with his finger. He crosses out a few shapes until a broken "v" materializes, at which point he pulls the stop cord and gets off the bus.
I'm the last person off the bus. The driver asks why I was out in the rain.
"It's sort of a past time."
Shrug. Walk twenty minutes in the rain home. It gets progressively harsher and colder - it's now one of those hard rains I wasn't expecting when I woke up. Maybe it's a good thing you called us off last week, even if you're just like this inviting light rain - just as confusing, pushing away and drawing in on any given Friday. Yeah. Maybe this is sort of a past time. Tomorrow we'll do the same damn thing.