The silhouettes on the street gathered and collided beneath the relentless rain. The raindrops blurred the scene, making the figures indistinguishable. Yet, I recognized her.

 

Her hair still held that beautiful shine, and my hands still longed wildly to reach out and caress it. She walked proudly, without a destination, scarcely noticing her surroundings. She made me forget everything else around me. My eyes couldn't tear away from her—her figure, her impassive face. My limbs were frozen; my breath caught in my throat.

I watched her, and her soft blonde hair. I had recognized her—her and those gentle strands of gold.

 

The coolness gradually settled; the street's figures hurried home, refusing to face the harsh cold. But she did not run. She remained still, her eyes lost in the void ahead, her blonde hair swirling in the air. A cigarette in her hand, the lamplight reflecting softly on her tanned skin. She was so magnificent amidst this pale world. In her mind, she must have been adding color to this monochrome world, caught between two thoughts, two dreams—or perhaps two men. That thought stung my heart.

And yet, I could not stop watching her. It had always been a torment to look away from her beauty.

 

Then, she turned her head.

Our eyes met, and they never parted.

 

Never—oh never—had I ever taken the first step. Never had I wanted to lead when it came to love. I let things happen, it passed over me, and I succumbed.

Seconds must have passed, and still my eyes couldn't leave hers. Her eyes, a deep blue, pulled me back to her, to her arms, to an embrace where I had built my home. My past mistakes flooded my mind. I was just a boy, too young to know how to love her. Too foolish to show her that she deserved all the love a mere mortal could give.

She seemed to have recognized me. Or at least, that was what I had hoped. Perhaps she remembered our happy moments, without dwelling on my youthful missteps. Or at least, that was what I had hoped. I would have given anything to turn back time, to return to her side. But maybe, it was too late.

 

Then, she smiled.

I felt my world collapse.

 

Everything inside me screamed to step towards this girl, to cherish her, to love her until the end. Feelings I had never known before. Destructive emotions, true waves that ravaged everything in their path, breakers crashing against my thoughts. A downpour that stripped me bare before the woman I still loved. 

I felt my heart sway, my breath tear apart.

 

Barely able, I whispered a miserable: "Sofia?"

She blinked. She seemed to wrestle with the way I had said her name, perhaps overwhelmed by our memories as well. The sound of raindrops on the pavement composed a symphony that made the moment heavier. It was her, in all her splendor, with all her heart—Sofia. The only one I have ever loved. 

Shyness seized me, tormenting my poor heart that was already battered. But she  smiled at me once more, and everything stopped.

"Good evening," she replied, a captivating smile playing at her lips. "It's been a long time."

 

I wanted to show her how unreal she was; how each time I saw her, my heart faltered a little more than before—that it would keep faltering every time I saw her again.

Her words echoed in my mind. I did not know how to respond. I just stood there, too stunned to say something.

"Are you okay?" she asked me.

No, I thought.

"Yes, and you?" I replied.

 

She spoke a few words, beginning a fragile, shy, hesitant conversation. I could barely keep it going.

She talked about dreams, chocolate cakes, books. I talked about my job, my family, the rain. She asked what I want to do in the future. I asked her what she did yesterday. Just two acquaintances, that are trying to get to know each other again.

 

"I'm sorry, I have to go", she said. Our conversation ended just like that.

She turned her back on me and began walking away with determined, confident, quick steps.

I watched her. Thoughts swirled in my mind, and my body hesitated to move.

Soon, she became nothing more than a shadow in the distance, a shadow I knew all too well.

 

I knew all too well that without me, her world was perfect. It was a reflection of herself. She had never known downpours or devastating storms.

And yet, there I was, running after her, desperate to be pulled back into her world. I was like a castaway in an angry ocean, caught in the waves, struggling desperately to set foot once more on solid ground, having only ever known downpours and storms.

I knew all too well that if she brought me back into her world, chaos would follow, and it would shake her world upside down. Perhaps a tidal wave would rise and swallow us whole, both of us.

 

Still, I wanted her to return. I wanted her back. I wanted it, just as the foam longs for the calm of the shore. No matter the mistakes of the past, no matter how selfish this gesture might be. I just wanted to try. To dare.

 

So I dared. I dared to take her hand, and I dared to say to her, "I can't forget you."

She looked at me, dazed. Then she smiled. Maybe she, too, thought of me when the world around her calmed again.

"I was never enough. Maybe I never will be. But please, give me one more chance to try."

 

Maybe it was not the right choice. Maybe one day all the love I have for her will overwhelm us and leave nothing of us behind. Maybe we will have to learn to navigate through a impetuous sea,  perhaps being jealous that mere mortals can love each other so strongly. Maybe one day we will regret having dared to do it. 

 

But if our love is to be inevitably a tidal wave that leaves us shipwrecked, then so be it.