The stranger had re-emerged. In this yet unknown city, where he tried hard to belong, he had anchored his heart and let his mind sink. His precious idea of life was far from realized, but so was his life. He wasn’t dead yet. It was just another year passed. It was just a birthday.
For a brief moment he gathered his thoughts, and then let go. He did not like what he saw.
The only two greetings he had had were from an old friend, who had bothered to remind him that he was fast growing old, and Google. He was somehow grateful for that.
Why must it rain today? The sky was overcast, and as he looked out at it, it only seemly to grow darker. Clouds kept moving in, and yet there was no rain. A tattered blue tarpaulin sheet waved aimlessly at him, a black cat moved under a log and white pollen from poplars floated in the air.
There will not be any celebrations. He felt that he had reached the mountains to find there was no fire, just gusts of cold air. A thunder clapped loudly in the sky and the electricity snapped. For all that had happened to him, he had played with the poorest cards he had. Twos and threes, against aces and kings. Even the occasional Jacks.
In his room, he thought of something to wish for. Something, he would carry into the new year. Something that would get him through this night. He blew the candle. I need more hope tonight.
And, then it rained.