Byronic rain

And as they watched the rain pour down over the glass of the windshield that faced the swings he said,

“you don’t remember where we would meet….” 

and even though the tone of his words did not suggest any question—it was

but he was looking directly at the swings when he said it 

it is so interesting the things that people say in opposition to their very own thoughts. Because she had heard some things about him. Things from those of whom didn’t know what their real story was…. now such old ….history —what became….? well—she heard he had a trail of quite a checkered way—which not only had given her pause but made her feel such a strong sense of —what was it exactly? not guilt; for there had only been his own bad behavior but —no, more like unfinished business with a vague sense of —bad timing 

She watched the rain come down. The swirls over the windshield made such mesmerizing designs. Like ginkgo biloba leaves swirling down

It swept down in the most interesting layers.

So what really made her decide to RSVP back to the wedding invite?

She was looking at the swings. 

“Uhh—vaguely—wasn’t it….” she feigned an heir of unabashed awkward forgetfulness “….?” as she stared right at the swings. scratching her head. Very convincing too.

“I really wish I remembered ….myself,” Greg said and after a moment of an intended and imposed pregnant pause—he simply added, “….Miss Pim.”

It is possible that it was the nice glow from the nearby safety lights. What do they call them in England? She hardly had an idea of the term in her country but it was a useful thought to —

And at the same moment both said: 

“—did you really believe I’d come back?”

“—why did you really return Miss Pim?”

Sharply her head shot towards him.

He watched her face for the impact. 

“Yes.”

“I…. guess if…. I were willing to be honest with myself I’d say—well to answer your question…. I was hoping to ….find ….out…. whatever might ….have —become ….of you….”