Eudaimonia

Disclaimer: I don't own them

Just a random idea that popped into my head when I read the word I used for the title in my dictionary.

Rain has turned New York City into a cliché of dull and grey. The moment when things appear to be washed clean has passed. Now the view resembles that of the picture on an old black and white TV set. It doesn't bother her.

She doesn't feel confined by the rain like so many people do, because she isn't. She has taken walks in the rain before, enjoyed its cooling touch on her skin. It's not the rain that bothers her.

Its monotonous dripping is beginning to lull her. She thinks that the rain sounds better in Greece, not that she has experienced it often. But it's not the sound that bothers her either. Although it sounds so much like the static of her radio. Interrupted only by gargoyles in the gutter.

It's not the rain, not its sound. But she feels confined, confined by the sound of the static of her radio, because it condemns her to wait. Wait for a change in its sound, because she doesn't know where else to look, doesn't know which way to go anymore. She casts it an angry glance. She digs her cell from her pocket to check if she might have missed a call. Of course not. She'd have heard it ring, and if not, she'd have felt its vibrations. In a way she's glad it doesn't send out any static, is just plain silent.

She almost drops it when it suddenly rings.

She runs down the street. No time to take the subway. This is no time to sit or stand still. She has waited long enough. The sound of her footsteps breaks through the rain. Hardly anybody else outside. A handful of people ducking under umbrellas, a handful of surprised glances following her as she rushes on through the rain.

Buildings glide past her in a blur. Granite, stone, slate, ashes. She begins to notice all the different shades of grey. And silver, shining from windows.

She's not as fast as she'd like to be. But fast enough now, and she keeps going. She falls into the rhythm of the rain. Puddles glitter on the pavement. She catches single raindrops with her eyes, pearling upwards again. They seem to stand still just for one moment, for her.

The few people along her path step aside as they see her coming. Glances follow the woman who seems to be flying through the rain. Ripples running through the gatherings of water the only footprints she leaves.

She reaches the park. The sound of her footsteps changes. Rain is whispering through the leaves, softly singing to the trees. A song of life.

And she sees him stand at a little distance. She slows down, enjoys looking at him, as he stands there quietly, surveying the scene from underneath a black umbrella. She smiles. Trust Mac to disappear for two days and magically reappear complete with umbrella. She stops, suddenly feels inappropriately soaked. She wants to hold him.

Having felt her approach he turns around to look at her. He feels how much he has missed her.

Raindrops twinkle around her, bursting into fragments of light and color as they hit her skin. He sees her beaming with joy. A spark leaps over. He breaks into a smile, closes his umbrella and puts it down, feels the touch of the rain sparkling on his skin.

And then her, in his arms. He sinks his smile into her curls, lets the rain wash relief over him, over her. Relief and delight.

Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it. It would be wonderful if you could spare a moment more and leave a review :)