It is full of cloud. Still hot, but the raindrops go down on the street. I stop by a quiet veranda, so does a girl. Both of us seep dust of water. It is raining gradually lightly and then more thickly. The street becomes all white. The heat is uneasy. Looking at each other. She is surprised:– You…
With surprise, I fill in her statement in time:
– Kim!
She is a bit embarrassed:
– Where… do you… go?
She always “weak in mind” when meeting something sudden.
Ten years. Kim is a little different, but her particular character cannot be hidden: Simple, tender, honnest, lovely, shy, and coddled herself. Her smiling is very attractive. Ten years’ time has not yet erased all memories. At that time, I was a choirmaster, she was a girlchoir. She used to sing solo. Time went away. All my dreams were unfinished, so I had to work for living.
– Why don’t you answer me?
– I hear… nothing. What did you ask me?
Kim smiles at me:
– I’d like to know where you’re going.
– Well, from work. What do you do?
She turns her hat in her hands:
– I’m teaching something.
– What subject?
– English.
– So good!
– Not easy!
– Rreally! Eglish is “number one” now!
– Hm…!
The cloudbursts often stop quickly. The street is busy again. We say goodbye to each other.
I come home. It pours again. I sit at the table looking through the window. Watching the rain or walking in the evening is my great special pleasure. So romantic, I think.
There just remains a little of dim light into my garret, which is enough to see the rain outside. The year dot, I would be preparing to teach singing or review my lesson. Nowadays, my hard life does not let me do so. There is something making me regret without expressions. She was a twenty-year-old girl, how “easy to hate” she looked! My inarticulate love in the past suudenly wakes up and makes me dizzy. She might be having dinner with her folks. In the old times, knowing that she came from a high-class family, I could not give her my offer for marriage. Immense is my sadness. Scattered is my thinking…
Playing the guitar lightly to follow the rain, I sing low: I’ve been alone with you inside my mind… It is possible that Lionel Richie is very sad in missing someone when he wrote that song!
Suddenly I stop singing, then write:
If love was a sin, my God!
Maybe I would sin
A touch of love became my souvenir
And it’s still as transparent as a raindrop
It goes on raining. More and more heavily. It does not come into my room, but I feel wet in my heart. There seems a wisp of wind which makes my youth frigid. Are seasons interchanging or is my heart itself interchanging?
I burst in word: “I miss you so much, Kim!”.