Wish it Would Rain
The sun shone cheerily. The crisp air smelled of the first new buds of spring. The first birds returning from wintering in the south were singing their hearts out. All in all, it was a very pleasant day.
She wished it would rain.
Her shadow led the way over the greening grass, past the stones standing vigilant at their posts. Reaching her destination, she knelt to the ground, not caring if the dew-soaked grass stained her pants. She removed the wilting flowers in the vase and replaced them with the lilies she brought with her.
Before she knew it, she was talking. About anything. The pace she ran earlier that morning, the case she was working on; anything and everything came up. Unfortunately the reality of her work came crashing back when her cell rang. She was needed at the office.
With a mournful sigh, she stood and brushed the damp grass off of her pants. She gave a promise that she’d return. She knew it would be a while. In her head, she knew that her visits were futile, and nothing would change the truth. But her heart always won out, saying that he had to be there, that he had to know she kept coming.
The assassin said “stop.” The woman said “go.”
The sun was shining as she returned to her car. She wished it would rain.
She cast one last glance back. Through the field of markers, she could make out his. Navy Lieutenant Roy Sanders. She’d always be able to find his. And rain or sun, she’d keep coming back.
She only wished it would rain.