Rogue Raindrops

He didn’t beg as she walked away. She’d expected he would, especially after the past six months of heart-shaped chocolates and beagle puppy eyes.

She cleansed herself with a deep breath, blowing a warm fog over the chilly glass to obscure her view of the station and of him. He would stand there, the bouquet and ring she had refused in his trembling, anxious palm, until the train had slithered its way around the bend and out of sight. There was no need to witness it. She relaxed back into her seat as the conductor announced their departure. Here, anonymous amongst strangers, there were no expectations. She could finally breathe again, and was sublimely alone.

The train slid forward. When she was sure he was out of sight, she wiped away the film of moisture from the glass. Raindrops littered the frigid pane, running down the window diagonally in a predetermined path. Several more droplets followed, careful to keep to the path of the first. The drops merged on their way, creating more powerful Super Drops that bulged together at the bottom corner of the window like trapped lemmings.

Then there were the Rogue Drops. These carved their paths slowly down the pane, stopping every few moments to consider their next move. Each travelled alone across the wilderness of glass, dispersing themselves as they went, until they had stretched their marvellous entirety over the cold, slick surface, ending in nothing.

It was these she liked the best.

by Laurie Theurer


  1. I'll never look at raindrops in the same way again. Beautiful.

  2. I like Rogue Raindrops best, too. Thank you for a beautiful story.


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