They used to love the rain.
She remembers the way it once felt — cool and calming, something to run through playfully instead of endure. The storm hadn’t seemed so heavy then.
There had been laughter here once, bouncing joyfully between the trees. Now the forest feels different.
She doesn’t say their name.
She’s afraid the world might swallow it whole. Without a word, she stands where they once stood together as the rain soaks into dark silk and glimmers along the jewels at her throat. Water gathers at her lashes and slips down her cheeks, and for a moment she lets herself pretend it’s only the storm.
She closes her eyes first.
It’s easier that way.
If she doesn’t look, maybe nothing has changed. Maybe the space beside her is still warm. Maybe she could still turn and find someone standing there, close enough to brush her sleeve.
But when she opens her eyes, there is only mist and the sound of rain striking stone.
No shift in the air.
No shadow stepping forward from between the trees.
No voice breaking through the storm to say her name the way it once was.
The world has already moved on from what she has lost.
They once told her that flowers bloom brighter after a storm. She wants to believe that. She wants to believe something will grow from this ache.
Instead, she stands alone at the water’s edge, listening for footsteps that will never return.
The rain keeps falling.
The space beside her stays empty.
tangentwithtanner
titsay
jbbartram-illu
yousharknotpass
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