I knew it without even saying. Smile was a common thing when we are on the phone talking. The rain would not come or go. It would always be there. It always stayed.
“Is it raining there?’
“Yes it is…heavily! Can you hear?”
“Yes I can. I wish…” he liked the soft corners of my silence that particularly came with the incomplete lines.
In the silence minds only whispered:
‘I know it’s sunny there.’
Did you think, but I knew only he could lie to me decently.
He whispers louder than me though:
‘I am all sticky and lying in the bed. It is hot like never before. But you always remind me of rain. A rain that is never there.’
The little whispers and little joys is all what we want.
Another mid-summer Tuesday, 2010.
"Is it raining there?"
"Very much! I am on the terrace all wet."
We enjoyed it. The silence and the delusion called rain that we shared consciously. Yet the predictability remained the most enjoyed.