Chapter 14: The part where it's supposed to rain

I walk off the bridge, a picture of desperation and despair. I mean, I’m supposed to look like a picture, I’m not actually a picture. My hands are stuffed in the pockets of my long, black, well worn winter coat and they’re still freezing, although not from the cold.

This is usually the part in the movies where the sad music begins and the rain starts. It doesn’t look that way now. The sun’s shining, the sky is blue, kids are screaming happily, happy music that sounds suspiciously like Elmo’s Song is blaring from a radio. A snowball whacks me on the side of the face.

“Sorry, Mister!” the kid says. I give him my best withering glare and he turns and flees. I like to think I scared him off instead of him just getting bored of a depressed adult who can’t scare anyone to save his life.

It’s still not raining. “I’m supposed to be in depression!” I yell suddenly, unable to take it any longer. “Rain on me!”

Splosh. A flood of cold water douses me, drenches me right through. There go my only good clothes. I look up. A housewife waves sheepishly, empty bucket in hand.

I try not to think of what she poured on me. Moving on.

A café. I order a cup of coffee and put my cold hands around it and stare off into the distance. Someone, a girl, walks towards me and sits down opposite me. “Oh, hello,” I say, not really looking at her.