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Some Days It Rains

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Some Days It Rains

Fiza Kuzhiyil, Reporter

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Rain.

A word of bad connotation foreshadowing dread. Rain to you may be a ruined day, but rain to her is a memory cherished.

Fiza’s mom is packing boxes in the garage when she leaves for Charlie’s. She drinks in the beautiful streets of her town for the last time on the way there. Mere minutes later, they’re on the other end of the minuscule town of Harborcreek, Pennsylvania. Another few minutes later, Fiza and Charlie are at the park engulfed in the same patch of woods that surrounds everything in the minuscule town of Harborcreek, Pennsylvania. They clumsily unload bikes from the truck bed.

They share a laugh.

Thunder joins the sound of the click of the leashes on the dogs.

They embarked down an uncharacteristically empty trail.

Thunder clapped louder in the distance, but the talk of gossip drowns it out.

The girls dragged their bikes down the trail instead of riding them to extend the amount of time they had to talk. They would do anything to extend their short time together.

But the sky doesn’t have time for conversation. It opens up and starts drizzling rain on them. At first it’s nice and cool. At first the wind was blowing the direction they were headed.

Then it rains harder.

They squint, but a veil of rain blocks their sight.

They turn around against the wind blowing hail their way. The dogs howl with the wind and cold bites at their paling fingers.

Charlie restrains the dogs on their leashes and Fiza struggles to push both the bikes against the wind and hail. All that runs through their heads is the mind numbing pain of the hail, but before they know it, they’re already back at the truck and the storm was alleviating. Charlie settles the dogs in the truck and jumps onto the truck bed.

She reaches out her hand to Fiza.

They climb onto the truck bed pulling the bikes up with them. They slump down exhausted beyond expression.

Then they share a laugh. A laugh so loud they can hear it over the steady patter of the slowing rain.

It’s the last laugh they share together.

Fiza packs up her life and her memories into a tidy box that’s shipped to Texas with her.

Some days Charlie’s face lights up on her computer. Some days they fight. Some days they hold grudges. Some days they talk about that day in the downpour. And some days… some days they laugh.

Names have been changed to protect the identities of the people.

 

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About the Writer
Fiza Kuzhiyil, Reporter

Film enthusiast. Avid writer (and a lunatic by default). Rory Gilmore wannabe. Never found without a cup of coffee in her hand and an idea in her head.

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Some Days It Rains