I didn't bring a coat, so I stand in my grey hoodie. Waiting for the inevitable soaking. It's then that I notice something sticking out from the door handle of my car. A piece of white jutting from the black of the handle.
As I move forward and enter the down pour, I imagine an advertisement of some kind awaiting me. Something about a new restaurant in town. A coupon for groceries. Maybe a traffic ticket of sorts. I pull my hood against the wind.
When I reach my car, I realize it's none of those things though. And my pulse rises with excitement. I let my hood go. Let the rain beat on my forehead.
It's from the girl. I know it.
The paper was torn from a small notebook, folded into a bow. The blue ink bleeding through each crease. I carefully pull it from the handle and get in.
The paper tears immediately as I try to untie the bow. I grunt in frustration and blast the heat. Put the note on a vent. Watch it intently, thinking about pots of boiling water. My impatience gets the better of me though, and before I know it I'm fiddling again. Flicking and picking at each fold and groove. Cursing my thick fingers for not being more sensitive. Careful. Dexterous.
But it's worth it when I finally peel the piece fully open and reveal the running words. Let them penetrate my shelled heart. Let them take over. And it's then that I know I'm not as awful as I think am. Only then that I know there's still beauty and hope and love out there. Only then that I know it all really is ok.
And I sit like that for some time. With the note on my lap. And a warmth in my chest that I could get used to.
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