Rain poured down in icy sheets, drenching every inhabitant that rushed about on the streets to shelter their wet heads from the cold. Some looked up at the cloudy night sky with glee-filled eyes and others with a scornful look. There was one person, head hanging low, arms in the soaked pockets of his jacket and trudging through the rain, not a care spent on keeping dry.
No one took notice. Why would they? They had places to be, rain to be gleeful for, soaking wet clothes to be annoyed and uncomfortable from.
He walked past the rushing people and umbrellas, keeping his gaze trained on the steps in front of him, barely a hint of life left behind it. Someone bumped into him and passed by in silence but that didn't deter him from his path. His path to certain relief.
Walking and trudging, the rain soaked through his hair and to his skin, ears colder than ice. He felt uncomfortable but that was completely overwhelmed by the lack of hope and the abundance of despair in this person who kept trudging along in the stormy rain.
Lightning flashed above, making some gasp but he turned a corner, walking towards the dilapidated warehouse. Windows lay smashed on the ground outside, a job started by unruly kids and teenagers and ended by the rain. Glass shards crunched under his foot but he walked onwards, eventually standing at the very edge, the waves storming the edge of the port, a terrifying drop into the water.
He came to a stop.
Looking up at the horizon, he saw docked ships, the lights of the buildings after, people dancing through their windows… and he saw what he couldn't have. Be it a friend, a shoulder to rest on or a moment of peace.
His end looked back when he peered into the raging water. Calling, beckoning him forward. A sigh left his lips. His foot raised…
And the telephone rang, clear and sharp through the rain. It pierced his ears, freezing him in his tracks as he closed his eyes. Turning around, he looked at the warehouse. There, by the edge of the wall, stood a black telephone booth as if it stepped right out of the 19th century. The insides were lit by an incandescent yellow bulb, just barely able to make out a black payphone inside, trilling away solemnly.
Shaking his head, he turned back around and tried to move his foot again but the trilling of the telephone was too much for his ears. With a cry of annoyance, he stepped away, turning around and rushed briskly towards the booth. The door opened with a creak and he stepped inside, rain dripping off of his clothes, his jacket, his red and numb nose as he grabbed hold of the receiver, a single chime ringing out as he lifted it to his ear.
"Hello?"
Silence responded to his greeting. Water dripped to the wooden floor, making a puddle at his soaked feet. He breathed heavily, now feeling the cold as he shivered and rubbed his neck.
"Hello, is someone there?"
Once again, silence. Nothingness. Leaning on the wall, he switched the phone to the other ear and sighed,
"Look, I don't have time for this, I was just a foot away from…"
He looked out at the port. The rain battered away as the ships swayed in the wind, the lights went out and up went some cries of astonishment and low chuckles as candles were lit inside cozy homes. Some huddled into one bed, scary stories galore while others sat in each others laps, wrapped up in blankets. And yet, he was here in the pouring rain, a telephone booth by the warehouse of all places, conversing with silence. He sighed as his eyes turned downwards.
"I was going to kill myself. Maybe. The water would be cold now, I'd freeze to death, I suppose."
He took a breath, wiping his hair with his free hand.
"Yeah that sounds stupid now… Would've sucked to drown."
"Look, is someone there?"
Still, the receiver remained silent, just the faint hum of electricity through it and his breathing. And he was tired, the rain was too cold. The booth was warm, a bit of a surprise in this approaching winter rain. He balled his fist tightly.
"Alright, funny joke, haha, I have to…"
Nothing. At this point in time… he had nothing.
He slumped over the phone, eyes filling up.
"I really don't have anything and-... I just wish…"
He took a breath, a sob leaving his mouth.
"...I wish things were different."
Saying that, he began to bawl, sinking to his knees. His chest heaved with each sob as he covered his mouth, thinking of the life he'd been subjected to. Orphaned, tossed aside, belittled, bullied, hurt, torn… It was a hurtful life. And he was sick of it.
But now.. He was tired. The rain got to his skin, he just wanted to remain warm and lie down, however much he could.
And so he did.
"I'm gonna go now, I will not kill myself for now. I need to rest, this rain is… a lot. Take care not to slip and be safe, if you're going to head outside."
Saying that, he chuckled and hung up the phone, removing his soaked jacket and laying it on the floor, curling into a soggy ball under the warmth of the bulb, eyes fluttering shut to the sounds of the rain…
He opened his eyes a bit, vision blurred. The rain was there, pouring away on the booth. Yet, there wasn't a sound.
Before he could move, his vision darkened as he fell asleep.