I AM VERY WET

A Rain-Soaked Confession
“I am very wet.”
She laughed softly as the words slipped out, standing under the dim streetlight. Rain poured endlessly, soaking her hair, her dress clinging to her as if the night itself didn’t want to let her go.
He stepped closer, holding his jacket out, though it was already too late. “You should’ve waited inside,” he said, his voice low, almost lost in the sound of rain.
“And miss this?” she replied, looking up at him, eyes shining brighter than the streetlight above. There was something unspoken between them—something that had been building for weeks, maybe longer.
A cold breeze passed, and she shivered slightly. Without thinking, he moved closer, wrapping his arms gently around her shoulders. It wasn’t bold, not rushed—just warm, careful… real.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The rain softened, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
“You always do this,” he said quietly.
“Do what?”
“Make everything feel… different.”
She smiled, her fingers lightly gripping his shirt. “Maybe you just notice it more when I’m around.”
Their eyes met, and this time neither of them looked away.
The distance between them faded—not with urgency, but with quiet certainty. When he finally leaned in, it wasn’t about the rain, or the cold, or even the words she had said.
It was about everything they hadn’t.
And in that moment, soaked under the endless sky, nothing else mattered.