On a very rainy Tuesday afternoon about five months after the Comic Con performance I shivered under an awning and glanced up at the sky. It wasn’t showing any signs of seizing the rain, so I stood there and watched the puddles forming on the street. It was comforting to see the water drip down to the street from the trees, and from the fabric of the awning that spread on top of me. The droplets hit the asphalt, and the puddles, making them grow bigger and form more puddles. As I leaned against the brick building, I watched the droplets bounce before shattering down into the water, making ripples on the surface.

     I sighed.

     People were running past me, none stayed underneath the shelter of the awning, but I didn’t mind at all. They were in a hurry to get into their homes, and too distracted by their own lives and worries to stop and wait the rain pass.

     I on the other hand didn’t have anywhere to be at that particular moment, no one to see, so why would I want to spend the day running from place to place. I huffed, and sat down on the ledge of a window behind me. There was an empty office behind the glass, and there was no need to be polite and not sit. I shed my backpack from my shoulders and opened it, pulling out my college sweater.

     I was slowly feeling cold, as I was soaked through and through. My T-shirt was wet and thought I could have entered the wet T-shirt competition and probably won it. I slid the sweater on, pulling my arms underneath it after I had zipped it up. The limited space inside the sweater caused me to fight and fumble, as I wiggled and tugged the wet shirt off over my head. I slid my hands back into the sleeves and crunched the wet shirt and threw it in the backpack, immediately feeling a whole lot better wearing a dry shirt. The sweater was warm and soft, but it wasn’t water proof. I decided to wait the rain out until I would continue.

     “Hey!” I heard a voice call out loud.

     At first I didn’t pay any attention to it, thinking that it was probably meant for someone else. But then, there is a black SUV rolling into the line of my sight and the car door opens from the driver’s side, and I realized who ever the person was, was indeed calling for me. The person driving the car, the one calling out for me, didn’t step outside even though the door was open now.

      I leaned forward and tried to see who it was, as the people ran past me and made it difficult to focus on the car, and the person sitting inside. It wasn’t Jon’s car because it was black. He drove a big ass white car on his own.

      There was something vaguely familiar about the person finally standing up from the car - - Norman.

      “Hey, Jae!” he called out again, this time using my name. He held an umbrella on his hands, waving at me. I remained seated, and wiggled my fingers at him just a little, hoping he’d come over to me, or just drive off. I saw him smile a little, and then he waved his hand, motioning me to come over.

      There it was, the thing I was afraid of, and I hesitated. There was a reason after all why I usually walked everywhere or used a bicycle to get around. But he didn’t know about it.

      Sighing very deep, I gathered my backpack, quickly zipping it up, and skipped over the puddles to the car.

     I saw him smile, as I reached for the door handle and pulled it open. He’d already sat down once I sat down on the front seat and pulled my feet inside. Unfortunately, for once in my life I didn’t think and yanked the door, slamming it shut after me.

     I felt it instantly; the constricting feeling on my chest.

     “Hey, Sweetheart,” he said, grinned like the proverbial cat that ate the canary. He had his Ray-Bans on, wearing a black T-shirt, loose fitted dark jeans and a dark grey, hooded sweater.

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