Frozen trees stand sentinel by big businesses and little shops - all coated in snow. The world is glowing and gray at the same time.
I drift in and out of semi-sleep until I feel the train stop, and bodies start pushing their way toward the door.
Strangers smelling of shaving cream and shampoo jostle up against my shoulders and step on my toes as I make my way out of the subway car - climb the stairs out of the subterranean world, and prepare my eyes for the first wash of sunlight.
Instead, I’m greeted by the scent of rain on the pavement. The bronze statue in the park just outside the subway station stands dripping with shades of copperish-gold, baptized in the cloudy tears running over its perfect hair and into its eyes - shining with a dusky light.
The forecast hadn’t said rain. I’m going to get soaked through, and I’m so irrationally angry I want to spit - hugging my arms against the damp cold leeching its way into my bones. Familiar misery holds out one hand, and with the other, it reels in more clouds, thicker still, just to be clear that there’s no chance of the sun coming out any time today. I scan the skyline, my eyes burning in my head - soul wavering on the verge of abandoning this whole ordeal - if that’s even an option.
“Excuse me, big sister,” I turn to see a young Asian girl, even smaller than me, about fifteen, with bleached-blonde hair and a big, duckling yellow umbrella tapping my arm, “Are you heading to the mall?”
I let my expression soften, as I shrug, apologetically “No - a little building just behind it, The Precioso Veggera Foundation’s Washington DC office.”
“I know it,” the girl smiles a little bashfully, “I can walk you there if you like. It’s not far.”
Something about the cute, shy way she offers, evaporates my frustration, and I accept. It’s about five minutes from the station to the mall across the street, and from there, just around the corner to the little office where I’m supposed to meet with Mrs. King for my interview with the agent, Ms. Carmichael. The girl talks the whole way, little, meaningless statements like “Watch your step, big sister. These puddles are deeper than they look. Don’t I wish people would pick up their garbage - the sidewalks get so dirty.”
She sounds so much like a little old woman that I can’t help laughing a bit to myself, as she leaves me under the overhang by the front door printed showily with that same blue-green elephant.
“Thanks,” I smile. The small face looks up at me sweetly, with an expression that reminds me of Mrs. Moon.
“It’s no bother, I like walking in the rain,” then she hesitates and says in a hesitant, kiddish way, “Don’t look so sad, okay?”
I almost laugh - but the look in her eyes is so serious that I just nod.
“Alright, I’ll try.”
(thought I'd share this one since it's my older brother's favorite scene)
