Plain Jane.

Prompt: “You hail a taxi but it doesn’t stop. After several taxis do the same you give up and begin to walk”

Rain doesn’t stop.

If there’s a god out there, is this his sign of mercy as a reflection my misery? Or perhaps plain cruelty?

The rain, it’s cold wetness seeps into my clothing.

Umbrellas and heavy coats can only prolong the seemingly long hours outside waiting for the bus. Locals know this through experience. I, on the other hand, just realised this today.

Though despite the downpour, passing traffic, and bustling of people, silence comes unexpectedly. A quietness I haven’t indulged in for a while.

Then like always, a song plays. Never can I recognise the voice that softly sings nor the guitar that thums along on occasion. It is soothing. I haven’t heard it before, something perhaps created by my mind to fill the silence that it isn’t used to. The quietest of piano. The whisper of singing.

But I can’t. Not right now. I’m busy, will there be a time when I’m not? I wonder snidely.

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