The smallest of small, the tiniest particles there are. Slowly congregating around one another. Each one reaching out to another. Colliding and growing together, becoming one. Born to life, a collection of atoms and molecules. Each sharing space and time as one. Everywhere more and more pieces grabbing hold. Growing, continually growing, in the moisture, the heat, the pressure. Bigger and bigger until there’s too much, too many. The weight is pulling, the pressure immense.
Then without warning, a flash, the brightest of light, crackling explosion. And noise, the loudest of loud, a pounding slam. All of a sudden, freedom. Space to move, no longer crowded and smashed together. Released from the pressure, expanding out in all directions.
Now the weight pulling, and pulling, down. Falling, the weight is gone. Freedom again, now floating and spinning and tumbling. The breeze increasing, speeding past, increasing to wind. Pulling and pulling away pieces, bit by bit. Molecule by molecule, atoms disappearing to nowhere.
It’s a race. To get there first, before everything goes away. Before turning into nothing, before melting away. The speed increasing more, rippling and tearing more pieces back to where they came. Soon, the finish is in sight. Closer and closer and closer. To be the first, To win the race. To start the end. To end this beginning anew.
Reaching out, falling and grabbing forward towards the end. Almost there, just one, two, three more seconds. The count down begins, pulling even closer to the end, the beginning. And just then. It’s all gone. The race is over. It is the end. The winner has been declared………………
“You know Caroline.” Lifting his cup to his lips.
“What’s that?” Caroline replies while waving down the waiter.
“I do believe,,, I believe” Joe sets his cup down, gently pulling his glasses from his head, looking curiously at the lens. Then up, towards the sky with intent, squinting his eyes.
“What , what do you believe Joe? Do you believe someone is going to just drop from the sky?”
“I believe, it’s starting to rain.” He states profoundly as he wipes his glasses clean and returns them to his nose.
(This is a response to another friendly challenge, the prompt: rain)