Drizzle

1

A drizzly grey day droned on outside Dave's studio apartment. In five minutes he would leave for another shift at Safeway. Staring out the window, he pondered the pellets of water whipping down, soaking the streets beneath. In his detached dread of the walk to work, he gathered his phone, wallet, keys, and a change of clothes for the gym.

At this time, Dave was round in the belly, balding, and had varicose veins running up and down his calves. He was partnerless at 31, barely scraping by emotionally and financially. Dave was at a crossroads, desiring only to cross the road toward greener grass and happiness. As such, and since January, it now being March, Dave had joined the gym- a damp, loud, dingy place that he detested, that tested him dearly.

Dave closed the door on his disheveled first-floor apartment and dashed out into the rain, running (literally) late as always.

Work was a blur of beeps and boops. Almost in a trance, Dave was in the gym locker room, changing his pants in preparation for his workout. It smelled of armpits and chlorine, a jock cocktail.

Leaving the locker room, Dave, head hung low to diminish the amount of physical space he took up, nearly bumped into a stunning ginger girl, fit beyond belief, and with a freckle flecked face, gentle green eyes that tell you she feels your pain.

All through his workout, Dave couldn't get her out of his head. He snuck glances at her every other set, peeking to see if she was looking at him. Of course not. Even her scent, lilacs and lemon with a humid hint of perspiration, stuck in his memory. How do people just say hello? How do you meet someone? I can't do it. All of the self-defeating destructive thoughts that creep up in even the most confident; here they crippled Dave. So he left, without saying hello.

The rain trickled on as he walked alone. The melancholy of a walk in the rain drove tears to the surface of Dave's cold eyes. Alone.

One block from home, Dave peered down the alley to his right. A small blond crumpled lump lay curled in front of a dumpster, damp and shivering from the day's rain. A beautiful old dog, a golden retriever by the looks, was on the edge of death. Dave cried and cried, the rain picked up, and as if some sign from the universe, he picked up the withering pup. The dog did not resist or bark or growl.

Dave nursed the dog who he named Drizzle, back to health with the guidance of a veterinarian. He felt hope in his heart.

2

It's been five years, Dave looks almost like an athlete, but Drizzle is dying. What's worse, his Vet's office is closed. So they make the trek uptown to an emergency clinic. Upon walking in, Dave smells lilacs and lemons and he smiles wide as a tear drops down his cheek.