A Short Short Story

A Story by Chris Needham

A really short story about the start of a relationship and not missing chances I wrote once that took inspiration from a motif that was once discussed with my sister one bored rainy day.

The rain beats down onto the pavement making the surface slick and creating large pools in the dips of the concrete. His feet beat faster still as his legs strain and his arms pump. Turning the corner he nearly loses his footing but manages to grab a nearby lamp post and he swings almost elegantly around the corner, like a ballet dancer’s pirouette. His feet hit the floor and kick up spray like a car through a puddle. His feet begin to pound again and his breath gets short. Will he make it in time? He pulls a pen, a biro to be precise, from his inside jacket pocket and begins to scribble across his palm manically. He still keeps running, swerving to avoid shoppers and passersby. Some shout at him angrily, others in encouragement and still the rain falls and still he runs. His destination looms large; he replaces the biro and wipes the hair from his head, pushing it back into a wet curl. His eyes scan the boards, looking for the information he needs and then suddenly he sees it. A voice rings out over the announcement system but there’s no time to listen. He checks the information again and sets off on his run, in from the rain now but with slippery trainers. He skids and slides a little across the platform and his eyes jump from window to window. And then he sees her, seated by the window just a few metres from him. His feet begin to move again as the train controller blows their whistle. The train begins to move, slowly at first and he is faster. He reaches her window and slams his hand against the glass, keeping pace with the train for a few yards. The girl jumps in shock but looks at his hand placed there. Her eyes register the mash of numbers but by now the train is too fast and he can’t keep up. Did she see it; did she read all of it? He looks at his palm and sees the biro smudged by the rain, the sweat and the drops from the window. He lets his hand fall by his side. The train pulls out of the station. As he stands listening to only his panting breath for a few seconds he hears another noise. A strange vibration coming from his jacket pocket. He pulls out his mobile phone and a smile creeps across his lips. He turns and punches the air, answering the call…