Krysta Walker
The
sky was overcast and threatening rain. Most people hurried from place to place,
avoiding the rain that hadn't come yet. One woman stood in place on the side
walk. She checked her watch and glanced anxiously around her, pulling her coat
tight. She shuffled in the cold, puffing out her cheeks. She bent to adjust the
strap on her red heels.
You
stood on the opposite street. You looked at her, wondering what she was waiting
for. You checked your own watch and realized how long you'd been outside the
restaurant. Your cigarette had long ago burnt out, you having only smoked half
of it. Everyone was probably wondering where you went. You looked through the
window behind you at the people laughing and drinking wine. If you peered hard
enough you could see your party towards the back. They were all smiling
politely. They held onto their drinks awkwardly, not wanting to be the first to
finish.
You
shoved your hands further into your pockets, touching the lint. Your attention
went back to the woman across the street. She had gone into the convenience
store and was buying something from the cashier. She walked back out to the
sidewalk, hastily opening her purchase: a carton of cigarettes. She slid one
into her mouth and shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat. She rummaged
through her purse then seemed to deflate as she dropped the cigarette inside.
You felt the lighter in your pocket. You pulled your hand out of your pocket
and checked the time. You'd been outside for twenty minutes.
Your
hands were freezing. Your jacket was not heavy enough for the weather. An icy
drop landed on your head followed by several more. The woman checked her watch
one more time then held out her arm, hailing a taxi. As the yellow car pulled
up to the curb, she wiped the rain from her face, or were they tears? She
climbed into the car and drove away.
You
looked at the sky before walking back into the restaurant. As you sat at your
seat, Sarah looked at you curiously. She touched your face with her napkin,
asking about the rain. You muttered something. Her parents laughed. Her father
punched you gently in your arm and wondered aloud at where you had gone.
You
looked outside at the rain and thought about the woman. You gave a vague
answer. No more questions were asked. You had overcooked steak and two extra
glasses of scotch and the rain continued to fall.