Opened the car door, stepped out into the fresh autumn cool
wind. She was still holding on to the car door, as if the
storm would blow her away and she had to hang on to
something, to hang on for dear life. But the storm isn't
outside. It's quite calm outside actually. The wind
caressing her, making her look even more attractive, her
hair swaying slightly to this rhythm of nature. All seemed
to freeze in silence for a moment, to marvel at her
incredible, hypnotizing beauty. The road was empty, but all
the rows of houses, all green trees, any flowers that were
around, seemed to worship her for just a moment, standing
still in the breeze. But she didn't see it. She didn't feel
it, the effect she has.  She almost always doesn't feel it,
nor sees her influence. She felt only the storm. She saw
only the lightly shaded gray skies over her head, perhaps
ready to weep with her, when she will. And she will cry,
just not yet. She's holding it in. She's restricting
herself, she must be strong, for the time being.
But all of this was one moment. And then she hurriedly
grabbed her small black backpack from inside the car,
clutching it close to heart. Shut the door, waved goodbye.
The car drove away, leaving a little trail of invisible
pollution that stood completely opposite her pure existence.
Though she only saw herself part of the pollution at that
moment. Back hunched, shoulders dropping forward, giving in
to the storm - she walked over to the house. The house
seemed to her to be even more lively, more cheerful than
ever. 'And I have come to distort this peace, I will put a
black stain on the pure white cloth of this perfectly happy
place.' she thought to herself with great sadness and
regret. She felt the storm inside her, stronger and
stronger. The drum of her heart started to beat, beat, beat
- harder and harder. It was even tougher a task now to bar
the way so that the tears wouldn't be released out. The wind
tried to help her relieve herself by touching her eyes and
making them moist, but she didn't give in.
She knocked. Twice, as she always does. Two loud beats on
the front door, and there's no turning back now. She tried
her best to suck the storm in, to not let it show, but she
is so fragile, and this is a heavy task for her. There is a
trace of the storm visible, in the expression on her pretty
face - but the lady who opened the door was kind enough and
clever enough to know not to ask.
-"He's in his room. Does he know that you're coming?"
The gentle girl nodded politely at the mother, but could not
look her in the eye.
She started towards the bedroom, before the mother could
offer her anything.
Again, knocked twice. This time a lot less determined, a lot
feebler, weakened by the storm and the mother's puzzled look
that was fixed on her back for a few seconds.
The door swung open. The delicate boy, who saw the full
extent of the storm inside her, took her in, wrapping his
arms around her, hugging her gently. Like the wind, he too
caressed her long soft hair. Frailly, she hugged him. All of
her energies were almost completely drained. She put her
head on his shoulder. He asked her what's wrong, in a
concerned whisper. She didn't reply. She could not speak.
The storm was now so much stronger than she was.
She let her arms fall beside her and removed his arms away
from her in a subtle movement. She walked into the room, sat
on the bed, as she always had done before.
The windows were open, not as usual, and sunlight and a
somber breeze filled the room. In the distance, bells that
hung outside chimed slightly, in rhythm with the soft wind,
and the faint sound of young children laughing could be
heard. She knew that she would destroy the joy of these
things in just a few moments.
-"I'm sorry," She uttered lightly, and couldn't go on.

-"What are you sorry about, my love?"

There was a short pause that felt like an eternity. The
world froze, genuinely worried. The wind began to pick up,
colder now. He stared into her beautiful eyes; she looked
down, in pain. The storm now had her, fully. The first tear
was the purest, the highest concentration of hurt enclosed
in it. She cried quietly, alone, not letting him touch her,
not letting him comfort her in any way. He didn't say a
word. He was puzzled still, only beginning to understand
what he feared most. He froze for a few moments, realization
slow to come, he was blocking reality out for those few
terrible moments. He doesn't want to know it but it's too
late, and he already does. He stared out the window, only
seeing the raindrops that started to fall down, and the dark
gray sky in the background. Even when she cried, she was
beautiful, breathtaking.  
And he felt broken, shattered, and lost. He buried his face
inside himself, leaning his head against his arms, stooping
over his knees that were bent into him, to form a little
shape, which resembled a crumpled up paper.
He didn't even notice when she whispered that she hates
breaking his heart and hurting him like this. He didn't even
notice when she ran out, ran right out to the rain and
didn't stop running.

In the south of the country that day, several people were
swept away in the floods.