Rain-soaked Reverie

By Francis Figueroa

 The smell of freshly cooked Japanese food filled my lungs as I walked by the narrow alleyways of Amsterdam with an umbrella in hand. The scent faded as more and more rain droplets began to fall, and the smell of wet cobblestone took its place. I stopped in my tracks, taking in the unfamiliar stores I would never find back home.

 “ I should be happier. It’s Christmas season, and I’m lucky enough to be in one of the most amazing places in the world.” I thought to myself, but the empty feeling settled in my stomach. It had been there since I landed, but I decided to lose myself in the bustle of the city. Snippets of conversations floated around, and couples walked around me hand in hand. The sight of them reminded me of how hollow I felt.

 I spotted a happy couple who walked so close to each other that it felt like if one of them moved for just a bit, the small world they seemed to have created under their small red umbrella would crumble. My hand tightened around the handle of my umbrella just as I allowed myself to close my eyes before letting the tears fall. Suddenly, the brick buildings surrounding me became a darker shade of grey, as if they were a twisted manifestation of how I felt.  I couldn’t help but stay in the middle of the cobblestone streets as memories of his soft touch flooded my mind once more. 

    “James…”  I managed to whisper before  The sound of raindrops ricocheting with the umbrella worked as a center to bring me back. 

    I kept walking, the sound of my boots touching the wet cobblestones echoing my heavy steps.  The rain stopped as I entered the stone archway that seemed to take me to another alleyway full of little restaurants and other shops, but a quaint little coffee shop lured me with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the promise of a warm place to rest.  

    The doorbell chimed as I entered the cafe, and I immediately took in the locals' chatter. The smell of freshly baked pastries filled the space, and the warm atmosphere felt like a nice respite from my hollowness. I stepped up to the counter, my voice barely above a whisper, as I ordered James’s favorite drink—a cappuccino with a dash of cinnamon on top. The words felt foreign on my tongue as if I was pulling them from a sacred memory I wasn’t supposed to revisit. But here I was, clinging to little things that reminded me of the man I used to love.  

I sat near one of the windows, watching the rain again veil the city. As the raindrops slid down the glass in crooked, broken lines, I couldn't help but wonder if maybe we could’ve been happy here, together in another life. I shifted my focus and watched the barista pour what seemed to be my drink into a cup. It was strange ordering a drink I didn’t even like. The espresso's bitterness always clung to my mouth afterward, but it was what James loved. I told myself it was just for comfort, something to remind me of a time when things were simpler when we were still us. 

“Just the season,” I told myself. But I knew Amsterdam was a big reminder of what could’ve been.

I blinked back tears, my mind replaying the image of the wedding ring he thought I hadn’t seen, the two plane tickets he’d tucked away.

"One cappuccino with cinnamon!"

    The barista’s voice snapped me back. I stood, making my way to the counter, but just as I reached for the drink, a hand shot out before me, grabbing the cup before I could. I froze for a second, my gaze following the hand of a tall woman with dark hair and a slight smile on her lips.

    I opened my mouth to say something, but the words never came. Instead, I watched the woman walk toward the corner of the café, her movements unhurried, as if she belonged here, in this moment. My eyes trailed her, and that’s when I saw him.

    James.

    Sitting at a small table by the other window, the same familiar look on his face—the one he used to give me. His hair was a little longer, his coat the same one he’d always worn on cold days, and his smile was still soft and warm. My heart lurched painfully in my chest. I couldn’t breathe.

    He kissed her on the forehead just as he used the same way he did whenever he craved my affection. I felt sick, and my body felt laden; it was a twisted turn of events seeing him here in the place that was supposed to be ours. 

    I blinked, my throat tightening, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away.  It felt like I was staring into a twisted reflection of the life that was supposed to be mine. It was as if in some alternate universe, this was us - lost in a love we once believed in, but here it was just a cruel reminder of everything I shattered.

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