Three girls walk into a café. They sit down at the same table and, for a moment, sit in silence, staring into each other’s eyes. The oldest stares with a sense of déjà vu at the two youngest and the younger stare with curiosity into the spirit of the older. The rain pouring down outside patters the roof, yet it seems to comfort every member of the trio, as if it shields them from the true storm beyond.
The youngest is around thirteen, hoping to go to her dream high school. The next oldest is fifteen, a sophomore at that high school who has no idea what the future will bring. The oldest is sixteen, a junior also at that high school already preparing for college. It is the beginning of the school year, and each will take a journey different from the others, yet somehow, they will find their paths connect no matter where they go.
A waiter walks up to their table.
“Excuse me, ladies. Before I take your order, the restaurant is taking a survey for the local weather channel. If you don’t mind me asking, when do you believe the rain will stop outside?”
The youngest shakes her head and says, “I have no idea, sorry.”
The next oldest tells him, “Very soon, I can promise you. Unless the plants need rain, of course!” She chuckles at that.
The oldest is reluctant to say, “With all the rain we have been having lately, it’s probably going to continue for a while.”
The waiter thanks them. “And to eat?”
They all order the same thing.
There is polite conversation during the meal. But they all realize they have grown apart. They barely recognize the old selves in the others. Maybe that’s a good thing. But maybe it's a bad one.
Before they go, the oldest takes the youngest aside. She knows her struggle will be there soon and will run rampant, so she tells her the thing that would have made all the difference in her own life, “There will beautiful people in your life one day. If you just look around you, you might find some already there. But if you find yourself chasing their beauty, perhaps it was never there to begin with. And when you do find those beautiful people, remember that it has to be night somewhere for it to be day somewhere else.”
The youngest laughs. “What are you, a psychic?”
The oldest barely hides her tears. “Something like that.”