Plop says the rain

Plop plop says the rain shattering onto the pavement, breaking the monotony of the silence surrounding us. I turn to look at Alecia. Her hair humid from the rain, is hanging down her face, her lips parched from the cold draw a bright smile upon her face. She looks at me eyes shinning, happy and complete perhaps for the very first time. “ Our days of running are over, we can finally rest now” I tell her with bittersweet smile that spoke miles of how I truly felt inside. Her understanding nod and response tell me that she feels the same. I turn back to look at the garden. We say nothing, silent and still like two characters on a painting as the rain falls a few centimetres away from our feet. Both of us are wearing our kimonos. Alicia looks beautiful in her blue kimono bridled with pink Sakura. We are in a old Japanese house with tatamis and a sliding door. The garden is green, all hues of green. With bamboos , fountains and the sound of the falling rain invading it. The garden is breathing heavily, blessed by this offering from above.

By Issa Dioume.

Website: https://thebiligualwriter.com

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