Title: The Weight of Rain
Author: Mariah Dietz
I've dreamed of him since before I was old enough to form memories. I'm as sure of this as I am of breathing.
When I close my eyes, my mind paints a picture of his smile and shades the contours of his hands, the deep scar around his bicep.
People say that I'm an artist, yet my mind is vacant, my hands unsteady. With his presence, he has unknowingly broken that something inside of me that makes me who I am, because being around him is like standing in a rainstorm.
First the drops tickle my skin, and then they coat me, refusing to be ignored. Finally, it seems they soak into me, reaching parts of me I don’t think anyone has ever touched. I’m not certain how he’s capable of doing so—I’m not sure that he even realizes it. Sometimes I'm terrified that it’s apparent in my reactions: other times—I really hope that it is.
I've been waiting for this. For him.