I can picture it clearly. Driving to his house in the pouring rain, just to pass by one last time. Taking a detour to the park, to see the place we always swam together, played together, sat on the swings together while he pushed me into the airborne land of the clouds. I stop. In my daze, I slowly emerge from my car, lost in a reverie of memories. The storm is growing stronger and the rain is sliding down my cheeks like the tears I have still not managed to keep myself from shedding. Lost in the world of the downpour, I hardly notice myself becoming drenched by the second. I take a step forward. Another step. Somehow, I manage to propel myself to the shivering swings; they are rattling side to side in the winds. I take a seat. I take no notice of the wind, of the storm, of the cold. Closing my eyes, I imagine myself flying away, away to a world of no pain, of no loss. The cold rain doesn’t faze me as I lose myself in my thoughts. I am a bird. I am a cloud. I am fearless, painless. I make no move to get off of the swing or to put it into motion; I am content with sitting and drifting away, with letting the rain wash over me, soaking me to the bone. Suddenly I am almost jerked off of the playground equipment as the seat beneath me is thrown forward. I open my eyes. I am flying into the sky, just as I imagined, the rain pelting towards me. Then, I am falling back to earth, away from the freedom of the storm and back towards the solid ground that holds me to the mundane troubles of humans. I am too scared to turn around and view the force that propelled me into the heavens. I am pushed away from the ground once more, thrown into the sky, into the freedom. I arrive back to the pivotal point of initial movement, and I am stopped. I close my eyes once more. I can sense the presence of the catalyst behind me, unaware still of its nature. I hear a voice whisper in my ear, “You’ll catch your death out here.” My heart leaps into the sky as my eyes flick open. My entire body warms, counteracting the water splashing off of my bare skin and permeating through my clothes. I dare to glance up. To my right is the very person who drove me to this park, to this neighborhood, from the start. The very person whom I spent weeks trying to forget about. The very person who has caused me to forget about the freezing qualities of a storm and focus instead on its ability to wash away the pain deep inside of my heart. So many questions leap to the tip of my mind. Why is he here, why would he care, why is he speaking to me? I glance up into his eyes, mine reflecting back confusion and newly welling pain. The tears start to flow, hidden in the downpour. He stares back, and I can see hurt rushing up in the shimmering, green portals to his inner emotions. “I never meant to hurt you like this…” I hear him mutter through a barely opened mouth. The mouth that used to whisper loving stories in my ear, kiss me tenderly on my forehead, break into a smile at the first instance of my arrival. He kneels before me, steadily maintaining eye contact all the while. He slowly leans forward and kisses the tears off of my glistening cheek. Tears that I am unsure how he spots through the sparkling water droplets still falling from the darkened skies. I look up at him through my heavy lashes, unsure of how to respond to this action. He knows I am timid. He knows I am confused. He knows I am unsure. “I love you,” he whispers, those three little words that turn every heart to a warm, bubbling brook of emotion. “How can I believe that…?” I whisper back, daring to speak for the first time since arriving at this moment. “I will prove it to you. I am determined to prove it to you. I made a mistake; I thought I needed to be alone. I don’t. I need you.” How am I supposed to believe this spew of romantic thought? How am I expected to listen to this boy who has shown himself capable of hurting me with no remorse? I look deep into his shimmering eyes and see a feeling growing in their depths. He is looking at me the way I have imagined these past few tentative weeks. Looking at me as though I am his sun and moon, his stars and clouds. I tenderly take his palm in my hand and keep a steady hold to raise myself out of the swing and the illusion of safety I have cast around myself. He also slowly rises to his feet. Looking into his eyes, I can see it will be a long, treacherous road before life grows into the way it was before. But it is a road that I am willing to walk, as long as he is willing to prove himself up to the task of leading the way.