FICTION

The Man in the Rain

A short story for a solitary night

Photo by Wes Hicks on Unsplash

The stranger had been waiting more than an hour under the rain; He was facing toward Amy’s window.

Her sixth sense was tingling. Who was he? What did he want?

He kept standing there and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his long coat and lit one. Still staring at the window through the rain. He had all the time in the world to focus on his task, and this was a simple job.

Amy kept looking outside, trying to remain calm. She considered calling the police and telling them about the stalker on the other side of the street; But it was possible that man was just waiting for a cab.

Most city unions had called for a strike, and services were at the minimum. She had been very lucky to find a locksmith who upgraded her front door; If the man on the street was planning something, he would have to fight both of them.

A yellow cab rushed through the deserted street, splashing water as it passed by the man, but he did not intend to stop it, and the cab disappeared in the corner with a loud exhaust bang.

His orders were simple, and the pay was high. He had been tracking his target all afternoon. He still did not know what he was waiting for, but it was not his strangest job, anyway. And he had a reputation to keep.

He waited ten more minutes and left; six hours was all the time they had paid him for. And the streets were not safe those nights for an actor.

Amy sighed, feeling the pressure in her guts disappear as the man went away, and she turned back only to meet the locksmith’s eyes.

“You were looking the wrong way.”