Short Story: “Hello Rose”

I was being dripped on. It was more of a steady stream really, so I did what comes naturally to those being rained upon from an unknown location. My flailing arms bumped over my tea as my chair tipped backward, spilling me onto the forming puddle of my balcony.

“Excuse you!” I shouted at the ceiling.

“Sorry!” came the response.

“You’ve rained all over me and my tea, you know.” I was still laying on my back in the puddle, not yet having picked myself up from my position. “If I’d had a book out, it’d been ruined!”

“Did you have a book out?”

I scrunched up my nose at the ceiling and tried to extract myself from the chair. “Well, no. But I might have! And it would have been soggy– owww! –to the spine!”

“Is your tea alright?”

I glanced at my mug. “Watered down for sure… spilled a bit, too.”

“What kind?”

“Pomegranate mint. Loose-leaf too, with the little bits floating around in it. What are you doing pouring water down from the sky, now, anyhow?”

“Just watering the plants.”

I righted my chair. “What kind?”

“Basil. Mint. Sage. Rosemary. You know, the easy ones that people suggest on Pinterest.”

“Any roses?”

“Nope. Flat out.”

“My name’s Rose. Rose Ann.”

“Rosanne?”

“No. With a space in there.”

“Oh.” The voice paused. “Rose? Ann?”

“Much better.” I smirked and leaned over the edge of my balcony to look up at the voice. “Do you have a face, of faceless voice?”

A shadow leaned over the balcony of the flat above mine, but I couldn’t see the face.

“I suppose I do after all. Hello down there.” said the shadow.

“Do you have a name?”

“Yes I do! What book would you have been reading if you had been reading?” shadow asked, leaning over his balcony.

“Probably poetry book like Shel Silverstein. What’s your name?”

“Milo. I like Shel Silverstein. My sister owns ‘Where the Sidewalk Ends’. It’s one of her favorites.”

“Hi Milo.”

“Hello Rose.”

Want to read more? Read Part Two “Hey Milo”