He waited. And waited. And waited. It was never ending it seemed. Constantly waiting and waiting without an end in sight. He checked his watch, once, twice, but the seconds ticked slowly, meticulously, as if they were purposely stalling.
It suddenly began raining. Of course it did. He sighed as the rain began coming down, harder and harder by the second until it became a total downpour. He felt the rain crashing against all aspects of his body; into his hair, down his neck, back, chest, and all the way down to his feet.
It was disgusting outside but he continued to wait there patiently. He needed to. There was no other way of doing what he had to.
Finally, having tired of the rain he pulled out his umbrella to protect himself, as if the rain were toxic and catastrophic. The umbrella began reflecting away the drops of rain, casting them away to splat against the concrete floor, being absorbed by the ground, left to be forgotten and rise up into the atmosphere later.
He continued to wait. He glanced back at his watch, but only seconds had passed since his last glance. Of course, he thought.
He was growing tired of waiting, but he had no choice. He needed to, he had to. It was the only way. Of course, no one was going to show up, nothing was going to happen. But waiting was the only way he could keep himself sane. It was the only way.
He stood there kneeling, umbrella in hand as the rain continued to come down. It truly was a dreadful day, but in a way, it was expected with the situation. It seemed to always rain when he was here.
Finally enough was enough. He had waited long enough. Looking down at his watch, he waited until exactly ten minutes had gone by, the seconds ticking down to the end like the last grains of sand in an hourglass. Then he got up, placed the umbrella to his side and looked straight ahead at what stood ahead.
It was the grave of course. The name of his sister engraved on it.
It was difficult to stay there long, but he had to. He had made a pledge. Ten minutes at a time, once a week. It was his weekly ritual. It was the only way he could handle it, handle the pain.
She had committed suicide. It had happened last year but it felt like it had only just been yesterday. It was so sudden and took everyone by surprise, but it had happened. He knew that.
His mind often played tricks on him, told him she was still alive, that it was all a mistake. Too long had gone by for there to be any truth to that. And here standing in front of the grave reminded him of the truth.
He looked at the grave one last time, shedding one single tear, before turning and walking away.
