The rain in Oakhaven didn’t just fall; it reclaimed the streets. It was the kind of relentless, silver downpour that turned the world into a series of blurred lights and heavy shadows.
Elias sat on the edge of a rusted park bench, his collar turned up against the chill. He wasn’t waiting for a bus or a person—he was waiting for the feeling of being untethered to finally pull him under. At twenty-four, he felt like a ghost in his own life, moving through a sequence of shifts at a quiet bookstore and long walks through a city that seemed to have forgotten him. "It’s a bit damp for a sit-down, isn’t it?" Im With You
"The noise is fine. It’s the pneumonia that’s the problem," she replied, stepping closer. She tilted her umbrella, shielding him. The sudden cessation of rain hitting his shoulders felt like a physical weight being lifted. "I’m Clara." The rain in Oakhaven didn’t just fall; it
Decades later, Elias stood in the same park where they had met. The bench was new now, made of polished wood instead of rusted iron. He was older, his hair a shock of white, but he still preferred the rain. He wasn’t waiting for a bus or a
Elias squeezed her hand, feeling the warmth through her glove. "Yeah," he whispered. "But it's okay. I'm with you."
Clara didn't offer a platitude. She didn't tell him he was wrong or that he was "stronger than he knew." Instead, she moved across the floor and sat right next to him, her shoulder pressing firmly against his.
But Elias carried a darkness he couldn't quite name—a persistent hum of anxiety and the crushing belief that he was fundamentally broken. One night, while they sat on the floor of her tiny apartment surrounded by half-finished paintings, the hum became a roar.