A zephyr.

The perfect weather; the kind of weather that would make you want to sit in your balcony with a cup of hot chocolate and a good book. Every cool breeze that brushes your face should make you smile. But somehow this day it makes you bite your lip.

Every cool breeze feels colder around your lips, the bite has made it wet. It's funny how alien your lips feel when compared to the rest of your face.
You bite a little harder so your eyes don't burn so much, so the lump in your throat grows a little smaller, so you can lift your head up a little and not look like you're beaten.

What is it that you are beaten by? It's surely not the weather. It was scorching hot yesterday but today there are clouds over your head, a slight breeze, it always seems like it's going to drizzle.

Could it be that there is something wrong and you just don't know it?
No, that's unlikely. The things that weren't so perfect in your life seem just the same. They didn't make you feel this way a day back.

You're well rested. You're well fed. You had a bath a couple of hours back, that should have freshened you up.

There is still something wrong.

You keep walking. Looking at the ground as you do so. The school-boy walk some call it. You kick a tiny stone that comes in your way, doodling with your feet.
You look up to see the trees swinging and somehow it pains you.
This very sight used to make you smile. This kind of weather would fill you with hope. And you know it doesn't do so any more. And you start to have the only conversation that never makes any sense.

You start having a conversation with yourself.

Could it be the weather?
No, that's outrageous.

You force the thought out of your head and kick another stone out of the way. But this time you weren't doodling so much as you were actually kicking it, using a little extra force as you reassure yourself the thought has been discarded.

You go and sit at that one spot that you go to to clear your head. It doesn't help. You still feel restless. You need to know what it is that is bothering you.

Nothing comes to mind.

It has to be the weather.


Could it be that the same thing that always lifted your spirit was the one crushing it?
It seemed so.


What does one do when that happens? How does that happen?
Could a person change so much and not even realise it?

No. That's... That's true.


You let the thought take shape, cautious to not let it get ahead of you.
And then you start thinking of other things like this, things like this wonderful weather that made you happy.
Babies.
Kids playing.
You with a large group of friends just goofing around, laughing at nothing.

And you start to realise that babies are just a pain in the ass. The constant drooling, the crying and all that attention they need.
Kids yell too much. And the little fuckers never tire. They try to talk to you as if they actually know what their retarded minds are thinking.
And why do so many of your friends laugh at just crude, witless jokes anyway? And why do you laugh along even though you don't find them funny and you never did?

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Am I becoming grumpy? Or am I just starting to think?


I'm not grumpy. Yeah, I'm just growing up. My likes and dislikes will change with it.


It starts making sense.
You lift your head a little. You kick a pebble out of the way, but you do a stepover too.
You check for the lump in your throat. It seems to have dissolved.
Your eyes don't burn any more.

You're close to home. You start thinking what you'll do this evening.
A movie perhaps, maybe listen to some music while you play Scrabble online.
Yeah, that'll be good. Maybe you might actually beat that fucker from England who always managed to beat you to 'cause he's better at using the tipple letter score tile.

You're going down tonight bitch.
Just as you see the door to your place, you feel something on your head.
You look up and a tiny raindrop hits your forehead.
You expect yourself to stick your tongue out to catch the next one but you notice something else.

The weather.

Babies, kids playing and your friends. You reasoned all that out. But you missed something.

I love the rain.

You close your eyes and stick your tongue out.

Your face is a little wet.
There is no lump in your throat.
You feel like a weight has been lifted.

This isn't a breeze it's a zephyr.






Why are only my cheeks...
Fuck.



I hate this weather.