Unmovable Glass

Fat drops of water threw themselves against the thick glass with a repetitive tap. when the rain met the glass, which all the while remained unmovable, they collapsed into streams, rolling their way to the bottom of the window and then pooling up again at the seam where the metal door met the window. It all seemed so cruel to me, as I lie in the back of my car with my hands folded over my stomach and legs crossed at the ankles, the glass never embraces the rain and I’m certain it couldn’t even if it wanted to. Who did this hurt more? The glass wanting so badly to grab its lover in its arms and take it as part of itself? or maybe the rain who threw itself so mercilessly, hoping that someday the glass would open its arms and beg for the rain to come closer, to sit down, wrap up and maybe stay a while. Maybe, and more likely, the glass never intended on giving the rain a second thought. A rough hand spreads itself open on my stomach, pulling me away from the rain and the window and their hopeless love affair but it isn’t until he tells me he has to leave that I remember I am not the only one here.