Under the rain... again

It is 1 o'clock in the morning, when I go out from the castle. For those of you that you do not know it, this is one of my several working places that sustain my existence in this Northern country. All decent folk have already gone to bed, alone or with company. Even the students, the people that make Uppsala what it is, are nowhere in sight. The streets are completely empty... as they have been countless nights before.

Only me, my bike and the rain are moving. I love this bicycle. It has been in my possession for more than three years now, carrying me through winds and snow, through blizzards and rain, over ice and mud. I no longer need to steer it with my hands. The subtle changes of pressure on the frame are enough to make it go where I want it to. If only everything else obeyed my whims as easily as my trustworthy bike...

I am tired. One more shift as a waiter has passed by. In the end of it, the last remaining employees that have not yet got home sit down on a table with the boss and trade stories. Everyday problems, past amusements and future plans were laid out. I listen. In my glass I have some 12-years old Bowmore single malt scotch whiskey. One of my favourites. The smoky taste teases my tongue, while the amber-coloured liquid lazily makes its way down my throat, washing the strain away. The boss is happy with our work and treats us to a beer. A local one, named Uppsala. Quite nice, I should say. A full-bodied lager with ale undertones. Recommendable.

I am cycling. The drinks and the company have pushed the busy evening into oblivion. No more shall I remember the awkwardly-behaving guests, the hot plates and the annoying pretentious old ladies. All what is left is the smiles of my coworkers, the lovely a-capella band and the delicious chocolate dessert offered by the chefs.

It is raining again. Celestial tears splash quietly on my cheeks as I glide unheard in the night. Their cold calmness is both numbing and invigorating. They take everything away, dissolve it and let it pour down from me as ink from a sheet of paper. I am blank again now, waiting to be filled. System of a Down booms in my ears, replenishing my supplies of rage and stubbornness, the two things that have always kept me focused on who I am and where I am going.

Finally, I am in front of my dormitory. One last look into the sky, feeling the raindrops caressing my face. An evening ritual follows. Time to go to sleep. I hope I dream.