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another short bit Another thing I wrote a long time ago...there's more to it than this, but this is the opening... It started to rain one afternoon while you were at work and I was at home, or what I called home. All along, though, I knew it was your house, your home, and that I was only a temporary guest there. It never felt like anything there belonged to me. Even the things I had brought with me suddenly seemed to belong to you. I didn't know it was raining until the cat came to the door in a yowling, wet mass. I went out on the front porch, tucked my skirt under my knees, sat with my bare feet resting on the second step. The rain was so quiet, I could barely hear it hitting the street but could just feel the dampness on my arms and legs. It was nothing like the Arizona thunderstorms I was used to, more like a heavy mist, as if the air had been replaced with water. I hugged my knees to my chest and felt that annual nostalgia when summer turns to autumn. Behind the house, someone was calling a name I couldn't make out, calling for a pet, or a small child. I sat and watched the rain, vaguely waiting for you to come home. Across the street, the sprinklers were on at an apartment complex. I watched them spray the sidewalk, already glimmering silver from the rain, and thought, I hate this place. Then I was surprised at myself. I'd never realized it before, but when the thought came it was something I already knew, as if I'd been thinking about it for a long time. The voice behind me was farther away, a woman, or a small boy. I watched the water rushing down the gutters, into the grates, and under the street. Then your car came splashing into the driveway. You got out, smiling, loosening your tie. Isn't this great, you yelled, and I thought, I knew you'd say that, but I didn't say anything. For you to have known that I could predict your thoughts would have frightened you. Miss These?
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