Scarlett Rhea
Can You Smell Rain?
The waiter put two Cervezas on the table in front of us, the bottles already sweating in the heat. I looked around, soaking in the vivid colours, trying not to think about how little time we had left. You looked at me as you picked up the bottle and brought it to your mouth. My eyes lingered on your lips, remembering the feel of them skittering across my skin on the crisp sheets of our room that morning. I watched them move for a moment before the words took on meaning.
"Can you smell rain?" you asked, looking up at the bruised sky.
And that’s how it began.
Can You Smell Rain?
The waiter put two Cervezas on the table in front of us, the bottles already sweating in the heat. I looked around, soaking in the vivid colours, trying not to think about how little time we had left. You looked at me as you picked up the bottle and brought it to your mouth. My eyes lingered on your lips, remembering the feel of them skittering across my skin on the crisp sheets of our room that morning. I watched them move for a moment before the words took on meaning.
"Can you smell rain?" you asked, looking up at the bruised sky.
And that’s how it began.