A thunderclap sounds throughout the night sky, as the oncoming torrent of rain sits idly within the clouds, awaiting their cue to fall from grace. The pressure building and building, churning and growing ever-closer towards the breaking point, where the tears of heaven come down to punish the Earth below and bless it all the same. A single figure sits on a bench beneath the clouds, the rumbling of another thunderclap ominously sounding overhead. The shadow moves, looking up towards the black night sky, clouds blocking out the stars enviously, refusing to let their twinkling beauty slip through the darkness.
A sigh erupts from the shadow, as it shifts once more, head hung low as hands run through hair. The sigh rests over the shadow like a blanket, trying to sooth the stress within the figure. Another rumble sounds overhead, but the shadow no-longer shifts, seemingly awaiting the inevitable downpour of darkened rain. Lights flash in the distance, blinding the shadow and drenching it in light, color flooding through the darkness as the shadow soon becomes a man, his brown hair waving slightly in the breeze. He lifts his head and stands, the headlights drawing ever-closer and then dimming just enough for the man to comfortably watch the large bus pull up. The engine rings loudly in the man's ears, seemingly bringing forth more envy to the skies as once again a thunderclap sounds, much louder then the past ones. The driver looks up through the windshield, staring at the cloud-darkened night-time sky and opening the door to the bus, waiting for the man to enter.
The man makes his way up the steps in the bus, quietly dropping his toll for passage in the small glass box sitting beside the driver's seat. The driver turns to offer him a warm smile, and the man nods his head pensively in return. Understandingly, the driver simply turns his attention to the road ahead, closing the door softly and pressing his foot down onto the accelerator, the bus lurching forward slightly as it begins to move again, throwing the man off-balance for a moment. He's quick to catch himself on one of the seats, tiredly making his way down the aisle towards the back, ignoring the stares of the tired people who remained on the bus at this hour. An old man shakily tries to light his cigarette, staring out the window as thoughts of better days flow through his mind.
The man takes his seat beside an elderly woman, perhaps no older then 70 years. Her greyed hair and large glasses a testament to her age, as she meekly turns her head to offer her own warm smile to the man, who simply nods his head just as pensively to her as he had the driver. Seemingly oblivious to the sign, however, she maintains her smile and simply pats the man on the shoulder, looking out the window once again.
"Rough night, son?"
The man chuckles lightly, looking up to the ceiling of the bus. Outside, a final thunderclap sounds, as the dam bursts open and the torrent begins. Rain strikes the bus with malicious intent, attempting to peirce through the protective shell of the vehicle and drench those within. Though the attempt is futile, the rain continues it's attack as it hits fast and hard, temporarily distracting the man as he watches with a certain curiousity at the droplets rolling feircely down the side of the window. The woman never turns, simply staring out quietly and awaiting the man's response. Moments of deliberation pass before the man's able to conjure up an answer, allowing another sigh to erupt from his lips as he runs his fingers through his hair.
"I...suppose you could say that."
The woman nods, casting a glance back at the man and giving him a warm stare. The temperature in the bus is chilling, the woman having to clutch a small blanket with one hand over her shoulders as in the far-off corner another man sits, jacket draped over his chest, half-asleep. The old woman turns her head wordlessly once again, staring to the outside world as liquid and solid clash in the age-old war that's been carried out since the first rain droplet struck the Earth. Moments of silence pass as the man gets comfortable, assuming the conversation over. Soon, however, the woman replies, surprising the man with the sudden breach of silence.
"I could see it in your eyes, I suppose my years have taught me how to read these things..."
"Excuse me?" asks the man with a sort-of apprehensiveness. This was the typical start-off to another conversation with a complete stranger over his personal life, which would always come with it's moments of uncomfortability and stress, followed by the inevitable moment of realization, where he was to make his decisions then and there, go home, and set things right again. He could feel it in his bones--a certain sense of deja'vu that swept down his spine like liquid ice, trickling all the way to the bottom and settling at the base of his spine, gradually building back up.
"Unfurl your brow, child...I won't prod you if you don't wish. I just like to help others I see as being in an emotionally disarray, and you seem like one of those people."
The man relaxes the muscles in his brow, looking off to the side and closing his eyes carefully. He knew he had the ability to turn down her advice on how to handle the situation, to be able to figure it out on his own...but there was always that annoying, tiny little voice in the back of his mind. All of us hear it at some point in our lives, the voice of reason, the voice of truth. The man opens his eyes and, despite all of his efforts to block out the child-like voice calling in the back of his mind, finally succombs to the inner-peer pressure.
"I seem like one of them...because I am one. Tonight was going to be better, to be a great night where I'd be able to get many things done...but I had a flash of my past coming back to haunt me, and it just ruined my plans for a good night."
"Have you been running from your past lately, child?" the elderly woman asked, tilting her head ever-so-slightly and watching him with interested eyes.
"Not running...trying to overcome," he sighs, looking up from the woman once again, "I just want to finally be able to push past the things that stop me from doing what I want. There's...a girl, from my past that I loved once, and she's dead. On the night she died...I swore I'd never love another, but last year...well, I realized that I did. There is another, and...I've not regretted asking her to be with me once. I mean, we've had such a great relationship, I'd never choose anyone else on this Earth over her..."
"...but the other," the woman interrupts gently, a look of understanding fading over her face, "Still holds your heart somewhere, doesn't she?"
The man closes his eyes, nodding his head softly and continuously trying to assure himself that time was moving faster then it was. He didn't wish to discuss this much further...he hated saying these things to others, because while it helped him out in the end...it hurt to say them. It wasn't a physical pain that one's mind registers and deliberates the strength of...it was an emotional, spiritual pain. A type of torment that one can't sooth with any pain-killer, any sedative...the type of pain that alcoholics attempt to chase away with their shots and glasses.
"It's even effecting my way of thinking on my job...I mean, just last week for example. For the first time...I actually underestimated someone, which was something I'd always been taught never to do. It...cost me greatly, I failed to do what I went out to do, and that's plagued me ever since. I've had my mind on so many things lately that it's hard to focus on what I do, what I want to do...heh. Even my dreams are getting cloudy now...it's as though my new dream is superceding the one I've had since childhood."
"And what is this dream?" asked the elderly woman, leaning the side of her head against the cool glass window as the bus slowed to a stop, the doors opening slowly for another group of people to enter boisterously, breaking the calm silence the bus had held before as a man in a trenchcoat stepped past the group, looking to leave the open doors and enter the perilous outside world, the rain still battling with the Earth unrelentingly.
Sighing, the man lifted his head. He didn't know why he was talking to this woman, didn't know why he was spilling his personal life's information out to a complete stranger who didn't even know who he was...but something compelled him to.