Z., Zelie

Z,, Zelie.

———z–

I was driving on my way to visit her when the rain started pouring.

It was that kind of rain where you can’t see anything, the wipers on your windshield can barely work under the weight of all the water drowning them.

The cars all slowed down and started inching down the highway.

I pulled over to the side of the road – I couldn’t see. I thought it would ease up in a little while.

So I sat there, in my car, with the flashers on, waiting for the rain to stop. More cars pulled over next to me. Nobody could go anywhere.

It rained and rained. I thought about Zelie and how she always loved the rain.

She said it was weird, but whenever someone she loved died, it always rained or snowed, and it comforted her.

She believed it was the spirit’s way of crying with her, a reminder that no matter how awful everything in the world might be, there is always someone with you. They’ll cry with you when you cry, because they don’t want you to feel alone.

Man, who died? I wondered, looking through my windshield at the rain starting to flood the streets. These were heavenly tears of epic proportion.

The call came at about 4 o’clock. I didn’t know it while I was sitting there, but Zelie had outdone herself again.

———z–

This post is part of the flash fiction series, By the Letter.

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