a whole lot of maybes.

the fresh scent of rain hangs in the air. summer's first shower. you're here beside me, placing one foot in front of the other, both hands in your jean pockets. white starchy shirt, baggy trousers. humming a tune that i faintly recognise. moon river. a tad bit lower pitched than how the original one went. a faint smile flits across my lips.

its a strangely quiet summer night, especially considering that it's a friday. then again, this part of the city is usually untouched by the noisy nightlife and boisterous crowds that seems to plague all big cities. a pocket of silence. untouched. an empty road where we can walk on, save for the occasional car that purrs past. you make a big fuss of diving toward the side of the road every time that happens. i laugh the first time you do it, and strangely enough, the next few times too. i guess even i have the capacity to change.

the first few drops come slowly. you hold your hand out to do a rain check, right as a drop lands on your glasses. its an amusing sight, to say the least. uncharacteristic of me, i break out into a laugh, and you grin back.

and then the rain comes on in full force.

taking refuge in a nearby bus stop, wearily inspecting our wet clothes. summer is definitely here, alright. in the warm flourescent light, you offer me tissues as you talk about your future.

“to be able to say 'i'm home!', and take off my shoes, wash my hands and face and sink into a chair.” you're staring off into the distance, far off into the night. i notice a new pimple on the ridge of your nose, right where your glasses rest.

“i'd build a bookcase, and fill it with books, and once it's full i'll build another one, and another one.” your eyes gleam in this fragile summer night. a few moths flutter around the gentle glow of the shelter's light.

“i'd be able to do whatever i wanted in that little house of mine.”

i smile. your words suffuse my body with a strange kind of gentle warmth, even as the slightly chilly summer rain showers on the rest of the city, washing away the remnants of the past few months from my mind.

our tiny pocket of warmth and light.

“then, i'll be there to say 'welcome home', if you'd like.”

i could see your eyes widening by just a fraction, right before you break into biggest smile i've seen you show and pull me into your arms.