The torrential rain lashed down on the city, creating dreading noises enough to run helter skelter for a shelter. Exactly the kind of rain parents warn of, which usually accompany thunderstorms and creates havoc afterwards. Sitting in their car, it seemed sweet chimes to them. They found it romantic. An unassuming kind of romance. The car had windows rolled up, hence not a speck came crawling inside. The air-conditioning became even cooler, making the world outside look surreal. The water sliding down the windows made the scene fluid, another surreal image. They kept mum, taken by the craving to embrace. The warm breaths added to the sweet chimes. The squeaking windshield wiper distracted their dreamy gaze.
“I would have loved to see your hair wet, clothes drenched and lips quivering”, he finally fumbled for that confident sentence he had been perfecting for a while in his head.
“And why would you…I mean aren’t we better off inside, enjoying the rains without getting drenched, feeling the chill without the fear of catching flu?” she tried to reason. Almost always unromantic in the romantic weather.
“Well, the rains are romantic. What good is a rain if you don’t experience it? It’s like smelling food and just appreciating its flavours without tasting it. You gotta give in, feel the rain, get drenched” this time the words came out a lot more confident and natural.
“And what’s with the quivering lips. And who uses the word quivering anyway anymore?” she knew how to keep a check on his advances, though she knew that she would give in, eventually, getting drenched in his hopeless romantic tactics. The unassuming romantic ways of his.
