pale with orange hair
floated outside the bathroom window:
“I’m peeing here, you know?!”
“Come out before the rain comes. This is the last night on earth.”
She was floating. No strings or CGI. Floating. Like a leaf in an updraft but without the chaos.
“Come out! The rain is minutes away. This is your last chance!
“I’m in my underpants.”
She was in a nightgown and gave me a blank look. Her hair started rising up, from the ends to the roots, each strand maybe the contrail behind a tiny flying bug.
“Come! Come now! It’s almost too late!”
I guess I started to push up the window, I don’t know. Maybe I was opening the screen when a drop of water hit the bridge of her nose and trickled down the side towards the corner of her mouth.
“Ah… it’s too late.”
The rain picked up tempo, pelting her with drops. Dissolving her.
She floated there, staring at me, until I was a guy in his underpants staring out a window, staring at rain. Thinking about all that I needed to do tomorrow, things on a worthless todo list
I thought to myself as I climbed into bed, hearing the rain, and electric fan with a wobble at the foot of the bed. Asthma medication at the head. Typing this out on an iPhone.