Rain in the city

"Go to hell". The dead dial tone. The phone still warm in my hands, but my heart felt numbingly cold. Not the first time I have heard these words. "A loving relationship is based on emotional bond between the both", Mom used to say. I laugh. Its sound is similar to a throttling. I never noticed that laughs sounded so hollow, so made up, devoid of feelings--helpful though, fills up the void within and without. "I just want a little more time from you. We hardly talk. We are in different cities and the only way I can connect to you is through the phone". It feels chilly all of a sudden. A lightning crackled lighting up my limp features."I hate talking on the phone. I want to live my life in the present. Thats how I am. I am tired. I dont want to talk"."But...". The "hell" part seems to still ring around. Somewhere a drop of salty rain fell on the hard deadened ground. The rains have arrived in the city.