Cloudy skies overhead, they sat together on the faded green bench—the faded green bench, their faded green bench—the bench that never was and the bench that always will be.

Her eyes were distant; they seemed to be viewing a different world, for she could see, but didn’t want to see, the world she was currently in—and the person that was next to her. No, it wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him—she did. She wanted to look at him forever.

But that was the thing.
She didn’t have forever.

And the rain began. Tiny silver droplets rolled down her nose, cheeks, lips. They entangled in her hair, clung onto her eyelashes. The coldness did not slowly make its way into her body, it did not even give a warning. So she shivered. But she didn’t mind, because the coldness would remind her that she was indeed not dreaming, that this was real—that he was real.

“I’m always going to be here for you. You know that.”

She turned towards him, gazing him directly in his eyes. She whispered, “Of course I know that. But how will you be here when you’re not even here?”

“You’re so silly. Just because you won’t be able to see me doesn’t mean I’m not going to always be here…”

She closed her eyes and said softly, “But—”

“Shhhh. Listen. Listen. Do you hear it? I’m always here. All around you.”

And she listened. And listened and listened and listened for a year until she finally understood. Until she heard the lullabies lulling her to sleep at night. Until she heard the glistening drops trickle down her window on the darkest of days. Until she heard the quiet but graceful sound of each and every droplet fall into the ground.

He was here.
He was everywhere.