Sentimental Precipitation 2

It has stopped raining after an entire day of wet sobriety. The street outside is still wet and people continue to wear their jackets and tracksuits. I somehow enjoyed today's rain -- enjoyed in a sober, lucid and boring sort of way. It' okay, I guess. There'll be more fun rains to come.

No more rain for now.

The only things that' are precipitating right now -- apart from my sentiments -- are the tar and carbon monoxide in those little sacs inside my lungs (I think they call it alveoli. Rainy days make you smoke a lot more apparently.

Anyway, what made me write about corny, mushy stuff today were two couples that I saw walking in the rain earlier.

The first were pretty young, college student types. They didn't look particularly attractive (or intelligent) but they caught my attention because they appeared to be quite affectionate with each other. It was drizzling/raining (somewhere in between) and the guy held his hand palm-down on top of the girl's head. It was more a gesture than a protective act. She smiled in appreciation when he did this and he hugged her close as if to say "I got you covered babe".

The second couple was older, around fifty or so. They looked like market vendors, perhaps because they were carrying bayongs. There was really nothing special about them except that they were very quiet, much like a couple usually is after a fight. They did not look angry though, just serious. Then the man suddenly held the bayong being carried by her wife, and she let go of it without saying a word. The man was being chivalrous in a very unromantic context. It felt like something he needed to do, like it was his responsibility.

Which what love really is supposed to be -- a responsibility.

Just like I could spot a drug addict or a closet queen effortlessly, I know love when I see it. And I saw it in the older couple. It was a stripped-down, worn out, no bullshit type of love. It needed no words or smiles or gestures. It was rootd in the knowledge that one person loves the other to death. No fancy lines. No sugarcoating. Simple. Perfect.

How we wish we could feel that for ourselves. Not me. No love for The Stellar Muser just yet. I don't smell it in the air. I don't feel it pumping in my veins. I don't hear its music in my ears. Nothing.

Hopefully things change by Sentimental Precipitation 3.

Peace.

PS. Sleep well you...