It was a cloudy day. The sky gave him plenty of hints of a torrential downpour. He looked up; everything was so dark. He felt that it somehow complemented his own existence by every inch. He was rejected again, rejected by the very thing he loved. Singing was his love and the thing he could do best. Yet every time he would take a step in turning his passion into his profession, he failed. It was the third time. He just couldn’t take it anymore. His eyes reflected the dark sky in a way that it was almost impossible to tell apart where those clouds formed outside or within himself.

He suddenly noticed some school boys bullying a puppy few steps away from where he seated himself. “Leave the poor thing alone you naughty kids,” he heard those words coming from a distance. He found the girl advancing towards them while the two school boys ran away. She looked furious at the beginning but then kneeled down before the puppy gently brushing and cuddling it. He stared blankly at her, her plaid shirt, her white jeans, her fair falling inevitably on her face, her dark brown eyes which showed no regrets, her smile overruling the dark clouds in his eyes; he just couldn’t help but stare, stare blankly at her.

He was so lost that he didn’t realise the rain drops hit the earth. The puppy quickly ran away and the girl was on her way as well when she noticed this person still sitting on the grass showing no sign of moving. He saw her running towards him but found it difficult to look away.

“Mister, aren’t you leaving? You’ll get drenched? Are you listening?” she said to him.

“Ah, yes,” he nodded as if almost waking up from a dream.

They rushed to the nearest shelter. While she dabbed her hands with a handkerchief, she asked,” Why were you sitting there like you had no intention of moving?”

“I thought the rain could cover me better,” he replied almost unknowingly, his eyes following the rain drops.

She didn’t reply. He continued after a pause,” Singing, the thing I like to do best, the thing I can do best, I don’t know why I keep failing then,” his voice began to break. She knew he was crying; she thought it better not to look at him. “ Once, twice and thrice, I failed... I’m so tired now, just too tired,” he sobbed quietly letting his tears run down his weary cheeks. She was quiet all this while but now she felt she should