Broken Rain

I stood under the tree where we met for the last time by the lake where we first met. The sunlight flickered through the branches and fell on my wind-blown hair and floating skirt. The shouts of vendors around me and the laughter of children pulling kite strings made the originally quiet environment more and more noisy. But my thoughts gradually squeezed out of the noise little by little, and then pulled the timeline of my memory to the scene where I met this old friend for the last time. Warm City, as its name suggests, this is the first time it has snowed in recent decades. He held an umbrella and stared at the scenery in front of him as if he was thinking about something. I was right next to him, watching the slowly falling snowflakes illuminated by the street lights, falling bit by bit into the lake and blending into the lake. I heard him inhale softly and exhale slowly before speaking. "When the first spring rain comes tomorrow, can we walk here together again?" I looked at him, and the light came from behind him. There was light in his hair and body, but I couldn't see his face clearly, nor could I see his emotions. I didn't understand why he asked, but I smiled slightly and nodded in agreement. Today was the day we agreed on. I started paying attention to the weather a week in advance. Even after I selected the skirt to wear today, a pop-up window on my phone reminded me to bring an umbrella when I go out tomorrow. But the weather was only cloudy on the way here. When I sat on this bench again, the sky started to clear up. Dear friend, you see, the rain that was supposed to fall has missed its promise. The same to you...