The street is busy. People rush past me, with quick steps and haunted faces. It's raining. Greasy puddles on the street, dripping canopies, water splashes from passing cars.
I turn up the collar of my jacket and continue trotting down the street. My wet hair is hanging on my face. I brush it away and absently look down the street. The illuminated signs of the shops are reflected on the wet sidewalk.
As I turn into another street, my mind wanders.

The flowers were red. They had stood on the grave, fresh and shining, as if to mock death.
You would have liked them. Red was your favorite color. Your dress was red too when I last saw you. You hugged and kissed me. You were weakened from the illness, but you still didn't want to give in.
The doctor had given you a few more days at most.
We talked for a while until you suggested we go for a walk.
It rained. We ran through the rain together. After a while I had to support you, and finally also to carry you, because your strength became weaker and weaker.
When we finally got to the beach, we both knew that you wouldn't be able to make the way back. So I stood there and stared out to sea, holding you in my arms.
"I love you." Your voice was little more than a whisper.
"I love you too."
We kissed for the last time.
Less than a minute later, I was on my way back with your lifeless body in my arms.

It's not raining anymore. The black clouds are slowly moving on. Bright rays of sun break through the cloud cover and a streak of evening red shines on the horizon.
I look up. You are somewhere there, waiting for me.
I have to smile. Someday I will follow you.
Sometime…
But until then you have to be patient.