Pluviophile

From a refreshing drizzle to excruciating heat. And back.

Juliet knows how it feels to have what you love ripped right out of your hands. Not that there was much to begin with, but what she had was more than what most people are blessed with; her husband’s unconditional love and a spiritual love for the Rain.

Yes, the Rain. Juliet loves to listen to the sound of rain, feel it on her skin and watch it fall on the ground.

But when a gruesome rainy day swallows Max, all her feelings towards it change drastically. She begins hating it. And she has every right to. Just like she has every right to hate Derek. But how can she was she has no idea about the role he has played in her past?

The more time she spends with him, the more her love for the Rain begins to return, bringing with it a sense of security. The question now is if it has returned for good. Or if she will lose it for the second time when Derek lays his cards on the table.

Imagine a stifling hot day, where the sun doesn't just beat down on your body, but also on your enthusiasm, your spirit. Now, imagine the relief that is brought down by a refreshing shower of cool rain. All your agitation and distress get washed down the drain in this shower, the same time that your lowered spirits and suppressed laughter come barreling to the surface. That relief, that comfort, that joy, is what Juliet has always felt since she found Max. Life has dealt her a good hand. Max is all she has ever wanted, all she could have ever wanted. What she has failed to realize is that no rain lasts forever, no matter how refreshing. And when it does, out comes the sun. With a vengeance. Although feeble after the brief period for which it lay low, it immediately resumes its journey where it ultimately gets to shine hotter than ever. If there is no rain, there is no relief. If there is no joy, there is no laughter. And if there is no Max, there is no Juliet. So, how is she to go on now that he is not there? Now that the eternity that he promised to love her for has been mercilessly reduced to a bare minimum? She has lost him. Him, as well her love for the rain. Now all alone, with just her memories of him, she trudges by, without really being involved in what they call, life. That is until someone comes knocking on her door. Someone she has never met, but has a history with. Starting over is never easy, but it is at least a little less difficult than being alone. Should she act on her impulse and let this stranger in? Or should she close the door in his face, considering the role he has already played in her once bright and thriving life?