It rained heavily that morning. I saw her for the first time. In our classroom, all her hair fallen on her shoulder, she half wet , trying to hide herself, actually her face from my stare. Water droplets like silver pearls, dripping from her black flocks, running through her cheeks, to her lips then neck and finally got absorbed somewhere in her frock. She was trembling and I felt pity for her. Surely I wanted to go to her with a towel, dry her, put my overcoat over her shoulder and give her a cozy hug. But I neither had towel nor overcoat that moment. So I went outside my classroom, in the open field, stretched both my arms and drenched myself in the heavy rain. Just to feel the same way she was feeling. I curled my arms, stood upon my toes and tried to whirl around and dance. As I turned around, I found that she was staring at me through the classroom window. And she was smiling.
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