Between the Drizzle and the Essence of Words

The sky was heavy with dark clouds, like a weight pressing down on the shoulders of passersby. Raindrops fell relentlessly, piercing through coats and washing the old city’s sidewalks—the city that Leila didn’t know well, but she felt something awaited her within it.

Leila walked slowly under a worn umbrella, holding a small leather-bound notebook in her hands. This notebook was more than just pages of paper; it was a vault of her depths, her secrets, and dreams never told.

She had spent years keeping her words trapped inside, afraid to reveal them to anyone. But on this night, with the cold drizzle slipping through her fingers, something was different. It was a mysterious feeling creeping into her heart, like a faint call whispering, “It’s time to let your voice be heard.”

Leila stopped beneath an abandoned street lamp where the faint light flickered on her weary face. She slowly opened her notebook, inhaling the scent of old paper that brought her back to days gone by, days when words were both weapon and salvation.

Suddenly, she sensed a presence behind her. She slowly turned to find a man she didn’t know. He was drenched by the rain, his black coat clinging to his frame, and his eyes held a depth that words couldn’t capture.

The man said with a mysterious smile, “You write about the things many fear to speak of.”

Leila didn’t answer, only looked at him with a mix of curiosity and fear in her eyes.

He stepped closer and pulled from his pocket a notebook much like hers. “I was like you once, hiding my stories, afraid no one would find them.”

His words were like raindrops, gently flowing inside her, melting some of the ice encasing her heart.

He moved closer, gently taking her notebook, and said, “Let us share our stories; maybe the world will find them more beautiful than we think.”

Leila couldn’t respond but felt something changing inside. The rain grew heavier, but it no longer felt burdensome—it seemed to wash away her fear.

At that moment, they heard footsteps approaching quickly. Leila turned to see a little girl wearing a red coat, searching anxiously for them.

The girl said in a trembling voice, “Dad, I lost you.”

The man looked at the girl and gently took her hand. Then he looked at Leila and said, “It’s time. I must go.”

Leila could only watch as the man disappeared into the mist, leaving behind the scent of rain and warmth of their encounter.

Standing under the rain, she breathed deeply and held her notebook tighter than before. For the first time in a long while, she felt she was not alone and that her words had a voice.

She returned to the nearby café and sat in a quiet corner, pulling out her pen and began to write. Her words flowed smoothly as if freed from their chains.

But at the last moment, before putting her pen down, she looked out the window. She saw the silhouette of a man standing in the darkness, silently watching her.

She couldn’t tell if it was the same man or just a shadow in her mind.

Leila smiled slowly, closing her notebook. She whispered to herself, “Maybe this isn’t the end, but only the beginning.”

---

Open Ending

Is it a fleeting encounter? Or the start of a new journey? Will Leila dare to share her stories with the world? Will the man return? These are questions without answers, leaving the reader free to imagine.