Raindrops in Singapore

As soon as the plane landed, the raindrops began to fall.

She looked out the window as each raindrop tapped on the glass, welcoming her back to Singapore. She’d gone away for school, then stayed away for work, and now she was returning finally to this bit of land that had managed to stay above the ocean waves.

The first step out of the passenger boarding bridge and the muggy air wrapped its suffocating fingers around her body. The humidity drenched her and her lungs felt as if they were working at half capacity, as if she were trying to breathe underwater. She’d forgotten how humid Singapore could be.

Her fingers gripped her duffel tighter as she made her way to the koi pond in Changi, just to check on the progress of their growth since last she saw them, about six years ago.

Allowing the sounds of the airport to dim away, she focused on looking down at the koi that had gathered in the fountain, close to her, hoping that she might be bringing food along. They swam around one another, swirling colors in yellow, red, orange, black, about twenty of them in so many combinations of those shades. They had grown significantly, some of them were a good quarter of a meter in length, clearly very halthy.

She looked up at the full length windows directly in front of her that looked out on the planes landing, when lightning illuminated the sky fully. Then everything went dark on the outside and the inside, accompanied by the sound of a thunderclap that reverberated throughout the airport.

With a small private smirk, she whispered, “I’m back,” into the deafening silence.