Raindrops and Rainbows
One/One
Fingertips made skin fade to white as they dug into the flesh of his arms, his own arms, in agony. This agony he faced because he’d seen his reflection in the mirror upon exiting the shower. This agony had overstayed its welcome; last night was still on him and wouldn’t leave. He watched silent tears as they fell in straight lines down a stranger’s face – this wasn’t who he was. He shivered, still naked and still wet; his body’s attempt to shake him from his thoughts. It had somewhat worked.
He was dry now, and the teardrops had finally stopped falling on the edge of the sink. He was dressed, and last night’s antics were no longer so obvious. He was careful as he applied his makeup, taking his time to find the perfect shades to match his paler than usual complexion. The corner of his painted lips twitched just slightly, just enough, and a kind of acceptance radiated outwards from the very foundation of what was his self.
That fleeting moment; the acknowledgment that what had happened had passed, and everything would be okay. The rainbow after the raindrops.
He was dry now, and the teardrops had finally stopped falling on the edge of the sink. He was dressed, and last night’s antics were no longer so obvious. He was careful as he applied his makeup, taking his time to find the perfect shades to match his paler than usual complexion. The corner of his painted lips twitched just slightly, just enough, and a kind of acceptance radiated outwards from the very foundation of what was his self.
That fleeting moment; the acknowledgment that what had happened had passed, and everything would be okay. The rainbow after the raindrops.