The steady rain also made the trees drip increasingly heavier drops, reminding him that he should be moving indoors soon. Mesmerized, Brayson watched the rain water stream down the headstone into the manicured grass, punctuated with flashes of lightning and the ever-closer rumble of thunder. It increased his melancholy for the graveside visit.
With a heavy sigh, he chided himself for having a knack for picking bad weather days to visit her grave site. It was almost as if he was consistently rehearsing her worldly exit so he could punish himself just one more time for not having stopped her sacrifice. She once scolded him for thinking that she could ever be in his life. Now it seemed he only continued to imagine the two of them together as life partners.
Like so many times before, he absentmindedly chewed on his lip as he stared intently at her headstone. The wind whipped up now and again, sending the rain sideways just enough to get under the umbrella, chilling his skin. Completely saddened, he lifted his arm to reach out to the grave marker and, as was so often the case, almost felt her standing next to him. Even though the daylight receded further, the occasional lightning flashes provided enough light to help maintain the mentally punishing scene he almost welcomed.
Almost like clockwork, the scene dissolved into the alarm blaring its wake-up call, pulling him from sleep. This time it was coupled with the noise of a fist pounding on his apartment door, most insistent about being answered. It always took a few minutes to shrug off the mildly depressed state he found himself in after dreaming about her.
Finally he hollered, “Alright! I’m up, I’m up!”
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