Rain (bp coyle)

We met on a Sunday afternoon towards the end of a very mild autumn. We had not seen each other for weeks.

My train was delayed which got things off to a bad start, she was annoyed by the time I met her on the platform. Impatient.

We set out to find somewhere to have lunch. The weather had turned and heavy rain fell. Ever practical, she had taken an umbrella.

We trudged along beneath it with few words shared, the street otherwise deserted. Shiny and clean smelling after all the dry weeks. Once our initial pleasantries where done with there seemed little else to say.

I had not lived in London long enough then to know that Sunday afternoon is the worst time to try to find anything open. Every pub and café had closed its doors until evening.

Sombre and reluctant, we made our way back to the station and bought coffee from a stand, found an empty bench to sit on.

She was angry, I was just sad. After years of knowing each other we had nothing left.

She took the early train. I kissed her lightly on the cheek, We never saw each other again.

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