Walking in the rain

He thought about what the day had been as he walked in the rain, drenched to the spine with the cigarette providing no comfort. He had not anticipated such an end to this day. He had been able to turn in the marketing report he had worked on all night. Analysing market trends was not a fancy job, stuck at a desk with a computer reading reports, studying charts and typing 110 words a minute, hour felt reduced to a robot. It wasn’t the way he planned it. He had seen himself engaged in some creative field. Life never does work as planned, does it!! Today he only felt his pessimism confirmed.

He had given it a good thought, he wanted it to be good this time. Let her know he cared. This was not a part if his routine, his job. He was there because he had wanted to be there. He had had a picture he had clicked of her in bed with her hair flowing down her back and streaked across her face framed… what a day that had been. they had been to the fair, she had bought lots if colourful jewellery and beads; he never understood the fascination the we things held for her. They had eaten from a street vendor and made love. She had been asleep when he had gone to drink water. He came back to see her stirring and had picked up the camera lying on the side table.
He had known with an unknown certainty that she would like it. And she had. She had kissed him and said thank you.
The frame was custom made and he had a note engraved on the back. He had known with an unknown certainty that she would like it. And she had. She had kissed him and said thank you. They had had home cooked meal, wine and gone to bed. Watched her favorite show and as always that led to sex. And he had outdone himself. She responded to him like never before. As they lay spent, she turned to him and told him it was over. She had decided it long back and now he knew too. But hadn’t they just… how… why… wasn’t she happy! the questions didn’t matter and neither did the answers. Her face said enough. He had known her so long how did he not know this streak of cruelty. She was like a stone looking at him with no expressions or did he refuse to see the hatred.
He picked his bag and left. To go home. Home… but hadn’t that been with her. But how could it! He had loved her… it was really late and he did have another project due tomorrow.. he would go write now… call her… but why did she.. the project… it had to be done..
He flinched as the cigarette left a burn on his finger.