The rain saturated my coat as I walked back home. The wind howled with a roar, trees stressing to creaking. I shuddered and threw my trench coat around me, swearing as I noticed the tails heavy with rain from above. Boots thudded as I jumped over a puddle in my path. Above the soft beat of droplets landing on the metropolis, the city was silent; Sirens or the dull drone of helicopter blades cut the air, only lone vehicles hounded unseen enterprises.  No people could be seen wandering the slowly flooding streets. 

A slight smile breached my lips, as I passed a formerly red letter box which had been un-willingly turned into a child’s crayon box, with the help of various graffiti artists. Turning into my apartment block, I began to reach into my deep pockets to find my keys. After much effort I finally grappled my metallic saviours from this horrid rain, the door opened with a satisfying click.

The boots heralded deep booming echoes as I bounded up the stairwell, wet boots sliding and squeaking. I wrestled with the broken lock to my apartment, using all manners of jiggling and jousting until it finally gave way.  Grumbling in the most un-respectable tones, I swung my now severely drenched trench onto the closest object.   

After turning the old gas heater as far as it would go, I poured myself a glass of port. Taking a few sips, I then threw it down the hatch and went back for another. Two glasses later I slumped into my office, spinning on the swivel chair like a child.

I looked at the letter. It glared back at me, sparking this which should not have been.

The letter stared at me from the desk, stark white paper, covered by writing so elegant it could please gods. In places the blue ink had blotched as tears had wet the fragile paper.  Nor was it just a piece of scrap, flowers filled its corners and it was like a softer form of card. It still smelled of her, still brought back images; The little notes she would write to me as I wandered off to work. I glanced away, but there is no use temping fate some say.     

Slowly and hesitantly my fingers reached down and held the sheet. My eyes began to scan the words, although they didn’t need to. For that moment she was alone again. Laughing, Cheerful, the one I loved. For that moment it was all beautiful. I swallowed hard, the apple of my throat bobbing. I closed my eyes, trying relentlessly to hold it back, the fall, burning inside me. I sighed. My very soul ripped itself apart and reformed in one moment. I swayed, loosing my grip on the chair, I span again.

All the pain and relentless torment swept over me like a cloud of pure depression. Tears flooded my subconscious. The low feeling in my stomach began to rise.  I was standing by the grave, a crowd of black suits and lace dresses; All sobbed but no one lent me their shoulder, they were her people, not mine. Watching, as one by one her things were moved away from me. Days flittered by my eyes: when I would just cry myself to sleep, due only to seeing mail for her arriving at my door.   

People thought it was my fault, that I drove her away. That somehow I had forced my will upon a creature so heavily that she should have walked among giants and gods, not me. Even the police drew me into their line of questioning, asking questions that I couldn’t answer in my state. Did she know anybody suspicious, Did she display any angry tendencies, Did she take drugs, Did she... They only gave the letter back because I begged them.    

I wanted it compete with the rain outside, let it pour from my soul and out my eyes. I had sobbed too much, cried a river. But this time I wouldn’t sob, my last tear had been shed long ago. I slowly drew my hand through my hair and glanced outside, greeted by the constant rain. I reached into my top desk draw, hands meeting metal.

The gun shone in the dull light. I slowly clicked open the chamber, fully loaded. I span the revolver chamber, snapping it back like I had seen so many times in films and TV. I placed the gun on the desk with a loud clunk, and pulled out a fresh sheet of paper.  Straining to make my handwriting legible, slowly the pen scrawled across the page. The words could never have said on paper what was running through my head.

“Yours Always in Love, Life and Death.

                                                                        See you soon…”

Again I lifted her letter to me, words upon the page sparking memories. Utmost Joy and the lowest forms of Sorrow filtered into one emotion. Don’t care what they think, in heaven of hell I will be with her.  Or if a realm of the spirit does not exist, I shall just cease to be, as I did when I knew she had gone.

The dull metallic barrel stopped shining as I lifted it into my mouth.

I will be with her.