Splash, splash, splash

It was pouring. The water turned cement, a light taupe, was darkened to a brown. It wet the lawn, fresh and green as it is in the spring. It dripped down the shingles, floated along the gutter, and finally fell on my head.

I shuffled up the cement steps in a hurry to get out of the rain. This isn't exactly true; I could have stood in the rain all afternoon. It was cold and refreshing, soothing on my skin, even with the immense numbity I felt then. But I couldn't stand there all day. That's the thing about pain. You can't escape it, but only keep moving forward.

I wrapped my wet hand around the golden handle of the front door and gave it a good yank. The stiffness of the house hit me before I knew I hit it. It had been over a year and one would think I ought to be used to it by now. I guess I was more familiar with the stiffness than anything else, especially since it was my life now.

I was whisked into the house and quickly slammed the door behind me. I slipped out of my ankle boots and neatly slid them up against the wall.

He looked up at me. One turn of the head to right and a slight tilt in my direction. The expression on my face must have given me away, because then he moving from the couch. Closer, closer, closer to me.
He spread his arms out, waiting for me to collapse into them. And I did. I buried my face into his shoulder, careful to not let the tears slip out. I wasn't sure if I had any tears.
He led me and I held him back, firmly.

Now it was me who had to look up at him.

Except I didn't look. I just held on really tight. And outside it continued coming down. It rained on the hydrangeas, the mulch, and the grass. The sky flattened into a dreary grey that covered the
earth. And it rained.