Asrai

Flashback Rain tapped rhythmically against the balcony screen, each droplet a soft percussion in the quiet afternoon. Swaddled in the cozy embrace of a camel-toned fuzzy long sleeve, I cradled my Chai tea, letting its spiced warmth seep into my hands and rise with every sip. I watched the sky weep gently over Seattle, a city that had stolen my heart five years ago with its moody charm and endless gray. I loved Seattle. I attended the prestigious Seattle Pacific University, a private Christian university offering liberal arts and professional programs. It was known for its small class sizes and community focus. From the edge of campus, the skyline unfolded like a living postcard—Seattle’s silhouette rising beyond the trees, crowned by the iconic Space Needle piercing the clouds. The air carried a faint saltiness from the rain,the Olympic Mountains loom in the distance like ancient guardians. SPU itself feels tucked into a quiet corner of the city. The red-brick buildings and ivy-covered walls give it a timeless charm, but the skyline reminds you—you’re in the heart of something electric and the hum of the city pulses. Today marked the end of the fall semester. My finals were finally behind me, and in just a few weeks, I’d be walking across the stage as a college graduate. For now, though, I allowed myself this moment—just me, the rain, and the beauty of the city. As an English major, most of my days had been spent buried in novels or hunched over a keyboard, crafting essays that blurred the line between analysis and art. But today, there were no deadlines. Just the quiet joy of a rainy day well earned. I was grateful for everything college had given me—but I was beyond ready to move on. The essays, the deadlines, the endless readings... I was done. The real world was calling, and I was eager to answer. Becoming a Teacher had always been the dream, and I’d already applied to a handful of schools with open positions. Just yesterday, I got an email confirming an interview. I was thrilled—nervous, but thrilled. I was lost in thought, imagining how the next few days might unfold, when the front door burst open and my roommate—my best friend of four years—stormed in like a whirlpool.. “Hey Rai, you’ve got a letter!” Casey Norfolk shouted, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of rain. She peeled off her soaked raincoat, her tall, lanky frame shivering slightly. Her deep ginger hair clung to her face in wet strands, and she grimaced. “Jeez, girl, it’s horrid out there.” I stepped away from the damp balcony and into the warmth of our living room. A flash of lightning lit up the space, followed by a c***k of thunder that made the windows tremble. Casey gave me a look—the kind only she could pull off. A slight teasing smirk. “You’re the only person I know who actually enjoys sitting in the rain,” she said, shaking her head, her eyes bright with humor as she handed me a cream-colored envelope. Gold lettering caught my eye as it shimmered across the front, addressed to me. “Oh, whatever,” I said with a playful eye-roll. “It’s a beautiful day.” I grinned coyly, snatching the envelope playfully and retreating to the couch. “Listen,” Casey called out, already heading toward the bathroom, “let’s do chicken wings tonight. You make that funky spicy sauce, and I’ll invite the guys over…” Her voice faded beneath the sound of the shower starting, I barely registered her words. They became background noise to the pounding of my heart and the dubious envelope in my hands. My eyes were locked on it. My palms began to sweat. A faint ringing filled my ears. I didn’t need to open it to know what it was. I knew. And suddenly, I felt sick. From Ava Monaco W.E.R.E. Industries P.O BOX 12687 . To Asrai Monaco 307 W Olympic Place, Seattle, WA 98119 I tossed the letter onto the center table and stepped back out onto the balcony, needing air—space. A sudden heat surged through me, feverish and unwelcome. I rubbed my arms briskly, trying to soothe the storm brewing beneath my skin. But suddenly an anger crept up the back of my neck, slow and sharp. I breathed harshly . The twilight sky stretched above, rain falling harder now, as if echoing my mood. I stared into the downpour, grounding myself in the rhythm of it. No. I wasn’t going to deal with this tonight. Tonight was meant for quiet. For peace. For pretending. Just for a few hours, that everything was okay. I turned, my eyes landing on the letter—alone on the table, waiting. I muttered angrily under my breath, returned inside, snatched the letter, and tossed it into the trash. If they wanted to talk, they could do it face-to-face… or at least show up to my graduation, a quiet and forlorn voice murmured. I stormed into my room and collapsed onto the bed, burying my face beneath a pillow. I was determined to savor these final moments of peace—the familiar shape of my mattress, my floral blue and white comforter, the soft scent of vanilla from the candle on my nightstand. My collected library of novels and textbooks. I clung to it all, desperate to freeze time. I wanted to stay here forever . My little slice of solitude . But change loomed like a shadow at the edge of my thoughts, heavy and suffocating. Tears welled up, threatening to spill. I wasn’t ready. Not yet.