Stormy Night

She sat in the corner, unphased by the crowd, her eyes upon the table in front of her. Outside the window dark clouds rolled in from above the shadowed mountains. She sighed softly to herself. It always stormed when she had to walk home.
"Might as well go now. Maybe I can beat it..."
She left a few crumpled dollars on the wooden surface and proceeded to the cash register to pay for the drink she had ordered. The cashier's name was John.
John was a smart man, working to earn spending money for college. Every week he saw the same thing. She would walk through the glass door, wearing the same sweatshirt despite the heat of summer. Her blonde hair was pulled carelessly off her blank face. He jade eyes were vacant, but a small fire burned deep inside them, the smoldering embers of something always hidden.
"They didn't bring your drink yet, Jules," he pointed out casually.
"I know," she replied. "Why don't you have it? You look thirsty."
It was always the same.
She placed her money on the counter and hurried away before he could stop her from paying, as he had tried many times before. He watched her melancholy figure disappear in the haze.

As she walked, the silence of the darkest night seemed to follow her, hushing all but the thunder that growled in the distance. She looked up and watched the lightning far away dance across the treetops. She stopped for a minute and a small wind pushed its timid way around her. She took a deep breath and started to trek on. A light mist fell around her, producing an ephemeral outline about her body.
She had not gone far when the black clouds above tore open and unleashed their angry wrath, crying sorrowful tears for another lonely day. She had forgotten her unbrella again. Without so much as a glance, she fell backwards upon the saturated grass, letting the icy rain pour down around her, cleansing her empty heart.

John had heard the warning crack of thunder and looked out the door as the rain began to fall, a torrential downpour of blinding water. He knew she couldn't have gotten far. He tore off his bar towel and threw it upon the counter. He ran out the entrance and into the storm.

"Jullieanne!"
"Jullieanne!" he called, cupping his hand to his mouth and shielding his eyes, searching the unseeable distance.
He almost tripped over her body where she lay in the field as he sprinted blindly. He fell to his knees at her side, his medium-lengthed brown hair plastered to his head. His eyes were dark blue, like the dying sky at dusk. He breathed heavily, his mouth gaping open and his ears deaf to all outside their watery cage.
"Are you crazy?!" he yelled to her, trying to see her eyes.
She stared up at the sky, gazing hypnotically upon nothing.
"It's not fair!" she yelled back, not looking at the young man. "Mother nature and all her children... God and all his angels... They all shed their tears freely! It's not fair that they can and I can't!"
He was confused until, upon further inspection, he realized that she was crying. It had been tactfully hidden by the rain that violently fell upon them.
"Every other day you walk into that bar and every time it's the same!" he said. "You walk in, focused, but unseeing! You order a drink, but leave before it comes and insist on paying anyway! Never have I seen such vacant determination! Nothing is that bad!"
The look that spread across her features struck a chill in his heart. She smiled, a queer, wild-eyed sort of smile, and laughed: sardonic, cold and empty, reflecting the storm that raged about them.
"You think you know what it's like to be alone?!" she yelled, the demonic curve of her lips was still delicately in place, unmoving in the torrent. "You don't know what it's like to have no one! To be invisible to everyone!"
"Well I see you," he said.
The smile faded and her expression changed. Amid the rain he saw, very distinctly, one tear roll down her cheek, bold in its crystalline clarity.
Her eyes moved, flicked, and in an instant were locked upon his. They burned now, almost glowing in the shadows that danced around them with the liquid movement of the rain. He was taken aback by the emotional intensity that flared from inside of her, as if possessed by an overwhelming feeling she had never experienced before.
"You don't even really know me..." she protested.
"I'd like to," he responded, smiling slightly.
She smiled back. This time it was sweet and genuine, like the kiss of sunset upon a glassy lake. He reached out his hand and she took it, letting him help her sit up. She embraced him and, as she cried on his shoulder, the rain began to let up.