Annabelle hated the rain. Not because it was cold, or wet, or inconvenient—though it was all of those things—but because it reminded her she was still here. Still present in a world she often wished would forget her, just for a little while.
Rain made the invisible visible. It stuck to you. Revealed you.
She stood on the edge of the curb, soaked through, her phone still in her hand even though she hadn't checked it in ten minutes. She already knew no one was going to text her. Still, she held on—like letting go would make the silence louder.
Then, a voice behind her:
"Are you okay?"
She didn't turn immediately. Didn't expect kindness from strangers. Not anymore.
But the voice was soft. Not pitying. Curious. And that curiosity unnerved her more than anything.
She turned, slowly, and met a pair of eyes that didn't just look—they saw. A stranger. Tall, maybe a little awkward, wearing a hoodie that looked too warm for the weather. But it was the way he stood—not too close, not too far—that made her pause.
"No," she said. The word surprised even her.