A Break in the Rain
Because life can be hard
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Copyright © 2025 by Ema Stonig. All rights reserved. Published by Avenue Oh ™
A Break in the Rain
A Break in the Rain is set in the early 1970’s in an imaginary city somewhere in the upper central United States. The setting is intended to create a mood, not to represent any historical accuracy. Ema.
He seems surprised to find her standing there. The cop. As if his thoughts had been drifting. Or maybe he’s been hypnotized by the rain.
It’s been coming down all night, the way it does in hot summers. The constant splatter of raindrops on hard city surfaces. The buildings and streets getting a shower from the sky that seems like it should be refreshing but isn’t. Just runs into the gutters and gurgles off to who knows where.
“Am I dreaming you?” the cop asks her.
The question is another surprise. Why would he think he’s dreaming? Then she remembers she’s practically naked—wearing only her wet bra and panties, a garter and stockings. Heels. Standing beneath an aluminum awning that amplifies each raindrop’s impact, as if the water is made of stone.
She’s out of the rain here but still soaked from the two-block walk from Jerry’s apartment. Her dark hair is matted to her head and the back of her neck. Her underwear is so wet it’s transparent.
The cop can see her hard nipples and the triangle of her pubic hair showing through silky white fabric.
“You’re not dreaming,” she tells him.
He stands under the opposite end of the awning, which is eight feet long, and just less than half that length wide. Everybody wondered when it was put up what it was for, then the city came along and constructed a concrete-block rectangle underneath it someone said was going to be a planting bed. But nothing’s ever been planted there. The way the city is.
The cop says, “I was wondering … about dreaming … because I seem to lose myself sometimes lately.”
She doesn’t know what he means by that, but it doesn’t sound good. Not for someone who carries a gun. Maybe this is why Jerry always talks about cops being dangerous. Although cops arresting Jerry half dozen times so far in his 31 years probably has more to do with it.
“You’re not dreaming me,” she repeats, speaking in a slow drawl, not exactly southern, but not from around here originally. “I can pinch you, you want. That’s what my mother used to do to me, I was little, I thought something was a dream. She’d pinch me hard on the arm. Although I’m not sure why you couldn’t just dream someone pinching you. I bet you can. You ever dream something like that? Being pinched?”
“Don’t think so.” He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, a man used to standing for long stretches of time. “I dream sometimes about being shot.”
“Yeah … guess you would. Your line of work.”
He tries to look away but can’t keep his eyes off her tits in the wet bra for longer than a few seconds. “You cold?” he says. “I should’ve asked before.”
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