She stood outside. Her purple dress stuck to her figure. Her make-up was stained. Her hair was wet. Her right hand clutched her left arm as she stared at the ground. The wind tried blowing her dress out. It didn’t give her warmth, It made her feel colder. Her heels were in a deep puddle. The sky changed colour. The clouds came. A few teardrops fell down.
He sat there staring through the rain speckled window. The misty window was stained with various doodlings made by bored and restless fingers. It was pouring heavily. Outside was still fairly dark and it was still midday. Or so the clocks and watches said. But then again, what is time? He sighed, misting up the window again. He rubbed the heel of his hand across the window. A single street light flickered on. He peered up at the sky. The sky was grey. He sighed again.
Every time he tried to rake the leaves into a pile, they’d just blow up again and scatter everywhere. He cursed under his breath. This wind was a bother. At least it had stopped raining. His hands were cold. His jacket had dark stains from the sky’s water pellets. He was sweating despite the cold. He decided to give it one last shot. If it didn’t work this time, he’d give in to procrastination. He started raking. The clouds looked like they had been outlined with a black marker. The leaves blew all over the place…again. He gave up.
The ground was an expanse of burnt orange and brown. Leaves were everywhere. They cracked under the worn out soles of my shoes as I tread onwards. I pulled my jacket inwards, trying to keep out the cold of the wind. My spectacles fogged up and I was continuously cleaning them. The only sounds that came from the sparsely dense forest were of the leaves under my shoes and my heavy breathing. I looked up. I turned to look at the path I was treading. The sky was grey and the clouds hung with dark outlines. I spat. The leaves sizzled.
The burnt logs crackled. A little steam rose from the surface of one log They threw in one more log. Warmth slowly spread through the room. A little too slow for their liking. Oh well, nothing else could be done. At least they’d got the fire started. They decided to make some soup. The sky turned a whiter shade of pale. The clouds seemed to break. They hung a pot above the fire and they poured water into the pot.
Water gushed down. Hot. Finally. This had taken a little too long. She breathed a sigh of relief and looked through the window. A burnt leaf twirled past her window. The window was now misting up from the heat of the shower. She smiled. Her eyes lit up but her face still had not regained its colour. Her shoulders, earlier tensed, now relaxed. It was like a weight had lifted. Light broke through the clouds and burst the sky’s old skin apart. The sun came out. The grey colour receded quickly to the ends of the world. The sky was a painter’s canvas with a backdrop of cyan blue, dotted with white clouds that popped out of nothing like popcorn. The trees were green. The world was a brighter shade of bright.