Monday’s night rain

It was raining on Monday night.

I returned to my house from Jon’s place, my car driving through my porch as the twin automatic gates clicked shut behind me. I turned my car key and took it out from its slot, and as the radio blaring out channel 98.8 and the soft purr of the engine died abruptly, all that replaced the overlooked sounds was the patter of the raindrops on the roof of my car.

I had to pause in my seat, immersing myself with nature’s best music like it was playing through a surround sound system. There I was sitting in my parked car, simply idling away, simply not thinking, simply happy.

My eyes traced the raindrops on my windscreen that drooled down in a cohesive liquid. There was this acute heightened sense of awareness of everything that enveloped me, and the cooling rain of the night had me oddly blissful, contented. It was odd given the events that unravelled as of late, but suddenly I felt the strange urge to want to try a different, straight path. A tried and tested path, true to the very end.

It was something that had already seemed natural but went into hibernation inside me. There, all the tests and experimentations have been done with, but I have yet to reach a definite conclusion. Surely a casual frolic wouldn’t bring me any harm?

That night rain imbued me with this drug-like serenity, and despite all its mental soothing qualities, it also did bring with it the flu.