A Serendipitous Rainy Evening in My Life

Have you ever chanced upon someone unexpectedly, only to watch them vanish from your sight despite knowing they reside nearby every day? Indeed, I have. At the tender age of seventeen, I lived through an indelible experience—a night etched in my memory, where rain poured relentlessly from the heavens.

The genesis of this tale lies in our middle school's evening self-study regimen. Obliged by this rule, we dined at the school canteen each evening. On that particular day, I hurried to the canteen as I had a physics contest class after dinner with limited seating. Despite the looming clouds, I neglected to carry an umbrella.

As I savored my meal in the canteen, a torrential downpour commenced. The rhythmic pattern of rain echoed like waves crashing against the shore. "Oh, no. I won't make it in time," I mumbled to myself. Standing at the canteen's entrance, I faced a difficult decision—to sprint back to the teaching building without an umbrella. I plunged into the rain, drenching my shirt and trousers. The wind howled like a dusky monster, and the cold seeped into my bones. Helpless, I hugged myself for warmth.

In the midst of my dilemma, the rain inexplicably "ceased." Looking up, I beheld an umbrella shielding me. A melodious voice from behind inquired, "Didn't you bring your umbrella before dinner?" I turned to find a lovely face smiling at me—a girl from school whom I did not know. She stood beside me, graciously sheltering me from the rain. I was momentarily speechless, captivated by her gaze. She blushed, then laughed, and at that moment, I regained my senses.

"Thank you!" I stammered.

"You're welcome," she replied. "Why did you dash into the rain instead of waiting for it to lighten up a bit?"

"I have a physics contest class, and it's starting soon."

"I understand. I can take you to your destination. You guys work so hard. In our class, we only participate in writing contests."

I learned she was a student of liberal arts. As we walked back to the teaching building, we engaged in conversation, yet our names remained a mystery to each other.

After parting ways, I realized I had overlooked something crucial—I didn't know her name or where she hailed from. When I shared the tale with my classmates, they insisted I find her. But where could I find her? I searched the school grounds fruitlessly, even braving the rain without an umbrella, hoping for her second appearance. Alas, nothing transpired, and I succumbed to a nasty cold. Despite numerous attempts, even my closest friend questioned, "Is that story true?" "Yes, it is," I affirmed. Yet, why couldn't I encounter her again? Was it fate denying us a second intersection? Eventually, I questioned the authenticity of the story myself. She resembled an angel—my savior on that rainy night, disappearing forever, leaving only a bittersweet memory.

Am I deceiving everyone, including myself? Certainly not. Sometimes, life affords only one chance, and if not seized, we lose something irreplaceable. Perhaps the unexplored places are termed "distance," and the person who left an indelible mark is the most unforgettable of all.